Of Earth and Sky
by Anonymous Void
Summary: Sequel to Three Sides of Fate, sibling fic of Fallen Olympus on ShadowMajin's account. They come from different backgrounds, different worlds, and are forced to fight to save not only their city but themselves as the sky descends and the earth rises to sunder all.
1. She Fell From Uranus

Author's Note: As promised, the second story of a two fic deal, the sister fic of _Fallen Olympus_ on ShadowMajin's account. That one's starting to go full speed ahead, so if you haven't looked it up, do. And speaking of looking up, any newbies checking this story out should know that this is a sequel to a previous story, _Three Sides of Fate_ that you can find on my account. It's all part of a fanmade universe between ShadowMajin and myself, starting with _The Ninth Circle_ on ShadowMajin's account. By my count, this is story twelve and we're still going full speed. So yeah, a lot to catch up on.

Now, this is a larger expansion of this fanmade universe, the first one being the first Justice League story. So there will be a few old characters, a lot newer characters added, and hopefully some twists and takes on some well-known origins. So whether you want to sit down and start with this one or go back to the ten completed stories that came before it, whatever you do, enjoy.

Disclaimer: We do not own Teen Titans

Warning: language, violence, death

She Fell from Uranus

Space travel was a highly complicated process. Even for an advanced race such as those under the rule of the Citadel, many factors came into play when planning and executing a voyage among the stars.

For one, Outer Space was enormous, mind-boggling so. Even their mighty rulers could not fathom the distances from one end of a galaxy to the other, much less that of the universe itself. Second, there were no landmarks, and those that existed were so small that they were easy to miss. Even objects as big as planets or mighty as stars could not serve you. Experienced pilots were always in demand as a result.

Lastly, there were areas of space that had...reputations. Some were ones that were avoided due to reputation, some gained through dangerous and hostile means, or simply the treacherousness of the sector. Others held a preferable reputation because there was much more traffic in them. If you were in danger, such as your ship was compromised, help would not be too far away. Piracy in such places was minimal, unless you were in Space claimed by a species that overlooked such practices.

It was by the first reason that the Gordanian cruiser traveled in this particular sector. There were rumors about it, hushed whispers of some sort of force that resided in it. What it was, no one under the rule of the Citadel knew, not even their esteemed rulers knew. What they did know was they were...cautious, not fearful. To admit fear was to admit weakness.

For this particular cruiser, the reputation of this sector was a tool for them. Their cargo was very sensitive, and there was a condition that they not be caught with it. To avoid piracy, or the eyes of certain law enforcing parties, they entered this particular sector of Space. It would deter anyone following them, ensuring their continued safety...so long as the force alleged to reside in it remained dormant.

Many a time this particular crew used this route, they knew what to expect. Superstition kept them quiet and on edge, as if a single sound would disrupt the tentative balance and doom them all.

This tenseness was felt by their cargo. Confusion was felt by it, but not to the point that it began to panic. Far from it. Instead, it felt...anticipatory. For so long, its transporters had been nothing but arrogant. Boastful. Abusive. That they were now meek was peculiar. Very peculiar.

To the cargo, it was opportunity.

Other than being warlike, there was one thing that the Gordanians were known for. That is, they were slavers and slave traders. Thus their cargo was a living organism. They gained their slaves through various means, whether through force, through treaties, or through other various dealings. This particular cargo was in the third group.

The cargo was not happy about it. Unfortunately, the Gordanians had their means to control even the most unruly of slaves, it—her included. She was a her, not an it, as these vile beings had been forcing into her brain. Sometimes it was hard to hold on to that bit of self, especially in such harsh circumstances.

As was mentioned earlier, the Gordanians were arrogant. Usually, they had reason to be. However, that did not mean the occasion always called for it. In her holdings, they had bound her in restraints that could hold even the strongest of warriors. Pure physical might would not free you. And even if you could free yourself, the Gordanians knew of hand-to-hand combat. Strength alone would not set you free.

It was a good thing that she had one last ability that could even the odds.

It was new, somewhat untested for her, but right now the option to fully explore it was not an option. If she was to take this opportunity, she needed to do it right now no matter the risk to herself.

It took a moment, but she could begin to feel her energy, her very life essence, as it flowed throughout her battered body. With willpower, she began to manipulate that energy, directing it into her hands. She could the warmth collect there, and with more concentration, she began to concentrate it.

The minutes ticked by, building on her anxiety. How much time she had left, she did not know. She needed to hurry, before she lost her chance—!

She tensed the muscles in her arms, accessing her physical strength. As her energy continued to collect in her hands, the Gordanian-made metal began to give in, becoming more and more malleable from the intense heat. Green light began to leak out of the restraints before she finally, _finally_ , was able to pull one hand then the other out of captivity.

Her hands were covered with a green light, and even though she was begging to breathe deeply, she continued to act, pressing her glowing limbs down on the bondage devices that held her feet. She continued to pump more and more energy into her hands, her desperate need for freedom growing by the second.

Then her concentration broke. It was but for a second, and in that second, she almost despaired at losing that precious, precious energy. Much to her surprise, that energy she had summoned detonated, damaging her leg restraints enough that she was able to pull free of them.

That was unexpected. She had not known about that, but that was something to explore. Later. When she had more freedom than was offered by this compact space.

She eyed the door that served as her next obstacle. Again, she began channeling her energy was once more, prepared to direct it at the lock securing the metal barrier. She hesitated for a moment as footsteps approached. That sound had ever warranted fear in her, as whoever approached this door never had benevolent intentions.

But that was before. That was when she was helpless. And as the door opened, she was not helpless anymore.

She released the energy she held, the green colored bolt racing through air and space and striking the Gordanian on the other side, piercing through his armor as if it did not provide any protection. Yellow eyes widened, almost bulging out of their sockets as a green-skinned hands lifted up to probe the hole. Pitching forward, the slaver collapsed in front of her, lying still as smoke fumed from his back.

She...she had done this. She had…

Her fists clenched. She had found her way out of here. She would ponder the consequences later.

Now was the time to escape.

Out of the small room she ran, feet pounding on the metal floor. Any time she came across one of her capturers, she would fire another blast of her life energy, clearing the way as she continued searching for a means to further her escape. She began to duck as plasma blasts were fired after her, a group of Gordanians filling the corridor behind her.

Quickly, she turned down another, her eyes continuing to desperately find her way out of here. She could not be taken captive again. She would not. The fate that awaited her would be so much crueler than death itself.

As the blasts began to fire from behind her again, she raised a hand behind her and fired another shot of her life energy, temporarily stopping the shooting. She shot blast after blast, hoping to buy herself time as she turned down another corridor.

Abruptly skidding to a stop, she threw herself at a nearby door. Raising a fist, she threw it with all her strength and punched through it. Ripping open a hole large enough for her to pass through, she found herself in another, much larger room. Unlike the one that she had escaped previously, this one was much more welcome.

This cruiser had escape vessels, and she had found their loading bay.

She entered the nearest one, shutting it behind her. Whether it was locked did not matter right now; she would need to reach the controls to ensure her successful flight out of her. She gave a sigh when she found it, quickly activating it and finding that she was able to understand the language that appeared on the monitor.

Then again, she had had no choice in learning the foul language in the first place.

She engaged the launch sequence, strapping herself into the pilot's seat as the vessel began to move. Through the viewing glass ahead, the darkness of the ship was replaced by the much preferred sight of the stars themselves. She almost gazed at them with wonder before her gaze fell onto a nearby planet. Her brow furrowed in determination as she fired up the engines, guiding her spacecraft to the potential haven before her.

Her eyes widened as a blast of energy almost hit her. The Gordanians were not keen with her leaving, most likely trying to destroy this ark of hope for her. She would not let them stop her. Not now. Not when she was so close.

The ship rocked as it was struck, but she kept it as steady as she could, the planet growing closer and closer. Another hit had alarms blaring at her that the ship was critically hit, warning her that another would end this escape once and for all. Then a text box appeared on the monitor in front of her, another warning but of a different variety. There was a good chance that due to the damage sustained so far, the ship would break apart when entering the atmosphere in front of her. Aborting entry was advisable.

Not a chance. Anything that was certain survival meant recapture. Never again. She would have to risk it.

Koriand'r would never be enslaved again.

She accelerated as the view of the planet began to turn red and fire engulfed her craft.

* * *

The days where he had patrolled the city of Gotham, perched on rooftops and generally kicking ass wherever he went, for the most part, seemed like another lifetime. The times where he had his back watched by his two older teammates, doing what little they could against the forces that threatened the city periodically were fond memories.

Tim Drake gave a sigh as he walked down the sidewalk, hands gripping the straps of his backpack. Yep, this was his new reality, life as an average teenager once again. Not that he had a choice to go back to it. That didn't stop him from yearning for it.

Once, though, he had been part of a team, one that called itself the Batclan. For various reasons. He had been the youngest of the three, and he would claim the handsomest no matter what Dick had to say about it. He also considered himself to be the most investigative, more like a detective whereas his older partners were either the muscle or the computer expert. He also tried his hand at computers too, but Barbara outshined him too much for him to make it his "thing."

So while he may not have had the fighting or acrobatic skills of Nightwing or the quick-witted and logistically-minded as Oracle, as she called herself nowadays, he still felt as Robin that he had brought something to the group. Ambition was something he solely bet on, but he'd like to think that investigations were where his strengths shined the most.

For years he had used the name of Robin to try to fight crime and make his home city a better place. It wasn't as easy as it looked, and they had a lot of competition out there as well. Not to mention the legendary Batman himself guarded the city so zealously.

In the last year, though, everything went to shit.

That was the easiest way to describe it. Even now, Tim didn't have the full picture. What he did know was that the former district attorney, Harvey Dent, went crazy and plunged the city into a mob war. Calling himself Two-face, he had always been unpredictable. It brought Gotham to its knees, and only kept getting worse and worse. Because of all that, his parents decided to make a clean start here in Jump City, his new home of sorts.

At first, Tim had wanted to stay and fight for Gotham until the bitter end. Perhaps if he or any of the other city's vigilantes were able to stop Two-face, then maybe his parents would change their minds. That was before the big pivotal moment happened that changed Tim's role in that war.

Even now, he could still feel Two-face's fingers pressing against his nose and removing his mask. That's right, he had fallen captive to the half-ugly bastard and had been unmasked. Worse yet, Two-face had recognized him and his vigilante career in Gotham was all over. Batman himself had stated it best for him to move out of the city as fast as possible.

And so here he was, in a new city, at a new school, surrounded by people he didn't really know but had to get along with anyway if he wanted to build some kind of life here. It was so freaking stereotypical Hollywood that Tim was waiting for some kind of teen drama to invade his life and make things that much more miserable.

Oh get over yourself Tim. You had to do this, if only so the folks wouldn't be too worried about you. That's the last thing he needed.

Yeah, he loved his mom and dad as much as the next teen. Hell, he probably cared about them too much if he didn't say so himself. For them, the city they had left had become a place of bad memories and broken promises. They were lucky, able to pack up their lives and go some place else to start anew. Few people really understood what that meant.

Jump City was supposed to be a new start. A brighter place, one so far removed from Gotham both in image and in distance, that the Drake family could start working on some new memories. Better memories. Memories that were worth having.

Which is what leads Tim up to this moment in time. He may have been reflecting on what he considered the good old days, but those good old days had taught him to look at his surroundings differently than other people. In the beginning, he had begun to buy in to this new start, that this new city would be better. But of the skills developed from being a vigilante, the teen was a keen observer and able to pick up on those most people overlooked.

About the second week after their move, he had spotted a mugging in an alley while walking the streets of Jump, trying to fit in with some kids from school. It had unnerved him, and against his own nature he had tried to overlook it. Just because this place wasn't Gotham didn't mean it was completely devoid of crime, right? Naturally there would be some, no problem.

And then he kept finding it. Someone was being robbed here. Another was mugged there. Hell, there was a girl at his school that got sexually assaulted one weekend. The more he listened, the more he paid attention, the more he found out that this new place was not some grand utopia fit to start your life all over again.

It was just another city with the same problems as other cities.

It pissed him off that he was deliberately ignoring all this, all in the effort to what, try to make his parents happy? Picking up on this shit had made him moody and his parents had picked up on that moodiness already. They knew he was upset and assumed he was having some adjustment problems. He would "get over it" in time.

No he wasn't. He couldn't. Because damn it, once he would have done something about this. Once, he would have along with someone watching his back. He couldn't do that anymore. He didn't have the equipment that he had to leave behind during the move. He didn't have another person to back him up in case things went south too quickly.

Effectively, Tim was not prepared to go solo in a city he did not know well.

That said, that didn't stop him from making a call to Barbara. He had kept one of the earpieces that his paralyzed friend had developed while she donned the digital mask of Oracle. It was a direct line to a life the teen was not ready to fully give up. At the time, he had thought it would be a way to ease out of it. Now, it was the key he needed to perhaps set up shop here and return to old habits.

Barbara naturally gave him a piece of her mind about it, demanding to know what he thought he was doing. Just because Two-face was locked away in Arkham Asylum didn't mean that he was any less a threat. If the man ever thought about coming after his family or heard about a city out west having vigilante problems and chose to check it out, Tim would in effect be re-writing a death sentence for his family.

There had been some hints that Barbara herself and a certain someone else had taken great pains to hide the Drakes without them knowing. It was a nice feeling to know someone was watching out for them.

But to ignore his surroundings was not in Tim's nature anymore. He had to...no, he _needed_ to do something. Even if that meant bugging Barbara for days on end until she finally, _finally_ , caved in. Sure, there was a warning that because he was on the other side of the country that she wouldn't be able to provide the same kind of support back east, but that was in one ear and out the other because, you know, victory.

Tim might have gotten a little greedy when he hinted that this might also be a good time to do a few changes and upgrades to the costume…

All he would say was that he deserved the tongue-lashing he got for that.

That had been a couple months ago and he was really getting antsy. How long was this going to take anyway? He wanted to be out there kicking butt already. He swore, Barbara was dragging her heels on this. That could be the only explanation.

The sun glared directly in front of him as he arrived at the new home that his parents had purchased. Like the last one, it was located in the suburbs, though closer to the big city this time around. At least it was close enough to the school that he could reasonably walk to it instead of having to take the bus. One week of doing that was more than enough for the sullen teen.

Before walking up the private sidewalk to the building's front door, Tim took a brief stop at the mailbox, a new ritual these days, and checked for anything left behind by the mailman. Pulling out several envelops, he began sifting through them as he closed the mailbox.

Bank statement, junk mail, bill, junk mail, advertisement, a letter with his name on it, another bill, a letter with his parent's name on it…

Stopping, he went back through the small stack and pulled out the letter with his own name on it. Yep, it was addressed to him but had no return address. He eyed the long, white envelope critically, examining it from front to back. Nothing too unusual. There was something in it that held a little weight to it but he couldn't feel out exactly what it was. Didn't recognize the handwriting, either.

Strolling up to the front door, he pulled out his house keys and unlocked it, entering the building with all the grace of a teenager, meaning none at all. Announcing he was home and quickly determining he was alone, he closed the door behind him and made his way to the kitchen where he dumped the other mail and ads. Casually waving the letter addressed to him, he gave in and opened it, pulling out the sheet of white paper.

The first words on it stated that he was to burn both the paper and the envelope when he was done with it.

Raising an eyebrow, Tim continued reading. Slowly, his lips began to curve into an excited smile the more he read. Though the wording held a tone of being put out, it was easy to tell who wrote it. Barbara; he recognized the style of wordage and he could practically hear her voice with each word he read.

Quick summary, Barbara had come through, she had found a place to store his, ahem, "crap," and here was the address and key to get to it all. Key? Oh wait. Quickly checking the envelope, he found the mentioned key still wedged inside it. Quickly, pocketing it, he read through the contents of the letter again to make sure he wasn't missing anything.

 _Whatever you end up doing, don't use your last name. It would be a dead giveaway, don't you think?_

A reference to Robin, no doubt. Had to agree with that there. And if the part about the " _changes we had discussed_ " meant anything, it might not be right to continue using that name.

Still, he couldn't help but feel excited about this.

He was back in the game.

* * *

If you were to really pay attention, the desert could be a very beautiful place to look at. Especially with the setting sun and the reds that lit up the sky. If you had a camera, it was a sight to capture and put in a scrapbook to show off to other people when you were in the mood to bore them to death.

For the individual wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie, the hood pulled over his head, the sight was ignored. He kept his head ducked down as he trekked down the two lane road, ignoring the rare car or truck that happened to pass by him. Not that they stopped or anything.

Then again, he wasn't hitchhiking either.

Preferably, he would like to keep to himself. Getting too close, physically speaking, to anybody would bring up questions. Right now, questions weren't what he was wanting to answer right now. There was a reason he wore the hood of his hoodie up and it wasn't to protect him from the sun.

With the get up he was wearing, anybody else would have either hitched a ride or passed out from heatstroke a long time ago. He wasn't affected by the heat, at least not in the way he used to be. He had seen a lot of changes with himself over the past few years. Such changes were...noticeable, and would have people asking him questions that he did not want to answer anyway.

If there was one question he would answer, however begrudgingly, it would be what his name was. He'd only give one: Victor. Anything else was off the table. Because a last name didn't really mean much for him. Not anymore.

Other people would think that that was either a: he was hiding something or b: he was really depressed. Hmmph. As if he could be depressed anymore. It would be much more preferred and he'd take that if it would undo many of these changes. But it wasn't going to be happening any time soon so he was stuck wandering the western half of the United States aimlessly.

Well, maybe not aimlessly. As long as it was far away from Detroit, he could careless where he was. If you thought people back there were looking for him, you had no idea. He was sure they were looking for him, tearing half the Midwest apart looking for him. He didn't want any part of it, though. Even if these people were looking for him, it wasn't Victor they were looking for. It was the parts of him that weren't Victor that they were interested in.

Fuck all the stuff about science and breakthroughs and crap. What did any of that mean for him other than he was a freak now? And not even a freak of nature.

With his shadow following behind him, the hoodie-wearing individual glanced at a structure down the road. Looked to be a truck stop of sorts. Yep, definitely a truck stop. There was too much pavement around the building itself, gas and diesel pumps, and several eighteen-wheelers parked around it.

As much as he didn't like to, Victor figured that he could at least take a moment to get his bearings and figure out where he was. That way, he'd know where not to go, maybe see some sights around here. Not that he was on a sightseeing trip, but at least he would be able to say he had seen them.

The worst that could happen? Someone got a good look at him. What could they possibly do that hadn't already been done to him? Even if they said anything about him, the words would be more harmful than any physical abuse.

With long strides, he pressed on to his destination. Where he would end up, he had no clue.

He didn't really care anymore.


	2. Children of Gaia

Children of Gaia

Fixing the last clasp, Tim took a step back and began stretching, trying to make sure there were no loose areas in the costume.

While the suit was designed to be as form-fitting as possible, it was real easy to get it bunching up in certain places. A very surprising fact for anybody wanting to get in on the vigilante market. So it was always a good idea to smooth it out before doing anything strenuous. Like running across rooftops, jumping off said rooftops, and picking fights with other people.

As he clenched and unclenched his fists, he examined the suit, taking in every little detail of it. Compared to the outfit he wore as Robin, there were some definite changes he noticed.

For one, there was more black in the design, specifically in the shoulders, the arms, and the upper legs. Red and been reserved for his chest area, the shoulder padding, and the knee padding. The domino mask, which had been black back in Gotham, had been changed to a dark red.

There was no sign of any R of any color anywhere.

The gloves and boots did retain their black colors, though.

One thing he had definitely noticed was that there were more areas to hide things on his person. Small things and nothing too big. Hmm, he was going to have to figure out what all he was going to have to do with that. That was going to take some time and a little creativity. If he had to guess, someone was picking up some tips from the other Gotham vigilantes and sharing them with a certain Oracle. That would be a theory for the moment until it could otherwise be proven.

Lastly, there was one feature of this outfit that he was eager to test out. It was one he had been planning on adding back before his exile, and he was more than thankful that Barbara had given in on his whim this time around.

Sliding his head and arms through the loops, he secured the dark yellow-colored harness that attached a small red-colored pack to his back. Flowing from its bottom was a long, thin, red cape that draped behind him, almost fluttering in the air as it dangled due to its light weight. Lifting his arms up and turning his head, he did his best to examine the garment, swishing it from side to side as he tested it out.

Hmm, he hadn't expected it to be like that. Still, if Barbara had stayed true to the admittedly crude designs he had made, then there was more to this cape than the eye could see. Best to test it out fully.

A small, circular disk clasped the harness he wore together and was located over his chest. Placing a gloved hand over it, he pressed and turned it, not only locking it in but turning it on as well. Not even a sound, like a hum or anything.

Stepping out to the small room that had been "appropriated" for him, he did his best to center himself between the four walls made of cinder blocks and glued together with mortar. The costumed teen adjusted his weight between his two legs, his boots slightly scraping against the concrete floor.

With each hand, he took a side of the cape and held it up, stretching his arms outwards while the thin material itself hung limply in the air.

"Alright, let's see if I was on to something," he spoke to himself as he activated the electric current.

In less than a second, the cape hardened, stretching out further than he had anticipated. Even through his gloves, he could feel it slide through his fingertips as the cape reached its full limits, a solid glider now. Turning his head from side to side, Tim marveled at the contraption, awed that once again Barbara had come through.

He was going to have to do something nice for her. However she was able to make this a reality, he did not know, probably didn't want to know, but damn it, he was proud of her.

As a test, he poked what looked like a sharp tip into one of the four walls and then carefully began to move it. The teen became even more giddy as the glider cape's edge cut through the constructive material easily. This was just getting better and better.

Deactivating the current, the cape resumed its limp form but that didn't matter to Tim anymore. The damn thing worked; it actually worked! He needed to take this thing out on the town and...ahem, you know, test it further. Make sure all its features worked. Yeah. That.

Okay, he needed to calm down a bit, but hot damn, _hot damn_ , this was so exciting. It was almost like old times. Except he was alone. And he didn't have anybody to watch his back. Okay, a little depressing, but all that meant was that he needed to be extra careful. And who was more careful that he?

Moving over to the tightly sealed container, he undid the clasps and opened it, exposing the treasure trove of gadgets and explosives contained within. Picking up a throwing projectile that was more round than the type he was used to, he checked to see if this was the explosive type before nodding in acceptance and pocketing it. Several others soon followed.

Yeah, he was definitely the most careful person out there.

Hmm, better take a grapple claw and cable, you know, in case things with south with his glider cape. Not that it would since he helped designed it and all.

* * *

Victor had waited until dark before making his move. Slipping around the large eighteen wheelers, the hoodie-wearing male made his way over towards the diner that had set itself up next to the small motel that made up the truck stop.

This place was designed specifically for short-term stays, and often it did not have enough rooms available to all the truckers that stopped here. Most, he had noticed, preferred to use the cabs of their trucks if only because it was cheaper. That made the diner the most trafficked part of the stop.

The place where you slept may be optional, but unless you brought your own dinner with you, you had to eat somewhere.

With the moon high up in the starry sky already, he entered the diner, almost wincing at the sound of the ringing bell that announced his entry. No one looked up at him, not really. Most were seated down and trying to eat whatever they had ordered. Others were talking with one another, probably sharing stories or whatever it was truckers talked about. Really, the only person who paid him any attention was a waitress.

With short, red curly hair, a wrinkled face with too much makeup on it, and being a bit...uh, chubby, the woman shuffled over to him and waved him over to the nearest open table. Well, actually it was more of a booth, but that didn't really matter. The plastic of the seat groaned slightly under his weight, and this time he did wince. Then he settled while the waitress placed a cheap, plastic menu in front of him.

"Can I get you something to drink, hon?" the waitress asked, the tone of her voice the perfect audio clip of disinterested.

Hesitating for a second, he turned the menu over quickly, looking for where the beverages were and...there. Lots of soda, tea, beer for some reason, but none interested him. Getting the sense that the woman beside him was getting impatient, he asked for a water then hunkered down as she left him.

Not that he was planning on drinking any. At least it would buy him some time. Diners, restaurants, eating establishments, and anything else they liked to call themselves, they didn't like loiters. They didn't really, because that meant someone was taking up a table that another paying customer could be using. Simply put, though, that's what Victor would be doing. Taking up space, and all.

Hopefully, there would be some leeway, what with it being dark out, but you could never tell. Of course, people would get suspicious of you if you didn't take something like the hood of a hoodie off your head. Which he hadn't done and had no plans of doing so anytime soon. The hood needed to stay on. That's all.

To kill some time, he looked over the items on the diner's menu, not really seeing much of anything that appealed to him. Then again, it had been a long time since he had ever had anything appeal to him that he could eat. Hell, he didn't even know if he was still capable of eating, despite the few times he had tried. So far, nothing bad had happened, but he couldn't be too sure.

The glass of water was placed on the table's surface in front of him. With a pad in one hand and a pen in the other, the waitress inquired with the most bored tone Victor had ever heard, "What would you like, hon?"

Really motivated, she was.

"Can I get a minute?" he asked, darting an eye back to the menu quickly.

He could hear her shrug her shoulders before stepping away. He had only been in this place for a few minutes and already he was testing her patience. That had to be some kind of record.

After making a show of reading both sides of the menu, and still not finding anything, Victor took a good look at his surroundings, finding nothing but a bunch of men, typically wearing flannel long-sleeve shirts, a few very beefy looking women who he almost mistook for guys, and—hold up. One of these people were not like the others and that tiny thing over there definitely stood out.

There were other things about her that stood out. Like the fact that she was reading, for one. And the book she was holding, even from here, like quite thick. Was she some kind of bookworm or something? Another thing was that she was obviously shorter than most of the people in the diner. From what wasn't being hidden by her own little booth, her thinner frame didn't help much in giving her a larger than life presence. She also had short dark hair that seemed pressed up against her scalp. Oh, and her skin was off. As in, it looked pale. Really pale. But at the same time it was an odd paleness. He couldn't be too sure because that pale hue in her skin seemed a bit too dark to be pale.

Don't ask him why he thought that. That was what the feedback he was getting told him.

His gaze then traveled to the nearly empty plate that was set on the table in front of her. Contrary to her slight build, that plate looked way too big for the kind of appetite she should have. Was that white gravy? Why was he thinking about a chicken fried steak suddenly? With mashed potatoes? A quick look back to the menu revealed that such items were available here.

Maybe it wasn't hers. Maybe she was with somebody else here. Maybe...maybe he was overthinking this. All he really knew was that she stuck out in a joint like this. Was he really one to judge? Though doubtful, maybe she was just another truck driver. What could you really tell about a person by looking at them?

Besides, he had his own problems. None of them concerned her.

Deciding that he needed to figure out what he needed to do before that waitress came back, Victor began to turn away from the girl except at that moment she closed her book, beginning to stand from her seat and pick up whatever she had brought with her.

Now his eye was directed to the weird purple-blue cape—cloak?—thing she wore. How had he not noticed that earlier? Weird. Nobody else seemed to be paying her any attention as she strolled out of the diner, and Victor was going to let it go at that.

Except while she had been gathering her things, three guys from a table across the diner had also stood up and left right after her. At first he thought that maybe these guys were finished eating and heading out in their own direction. Just coincidence. Except...except they turned and followed after the girl as soon as they exited the diner. The movements were on purpose, like they knew where they were going or what they were doing.

It wasn't any of his business. It just wasn't. He was looking too deeply into things. They just happened to be going in the same direction as the girl was. Nothing sinister or anything like that. Again this wasn't his problem so long as he didn't make it one. Look back at your menu, think of something to tell the bored out of her mind waitress and get back to whatever the hell it is that you're doing.

Why was he looking at the door instead?

Fuck it. What could it hurt to look outside and see if there was any trouble? Let it ease your mind so you could stop thinking about it.

Victor was out of the booth and heading to the door now. With sure movements, he opened the thin door and looked out, searching around for—and he found them.

They hadn't gotten as far as he had thought.

The three men were barely twenty feet away from the diner, each one positioned around the girl. The girl herself faced one of them, and even from here he could see the blank look she was giving him. It wasn't a look that meant "I have no idea what you're talking about/telling me" but more like "I don't care what it is you have to say to me."

Victor was proud that he could recognize such a look even from here. He had seen it before many times, for some reason always directed at him.

When one of the men placed a hand on the girl's shoulder and she shrugged it off immediately, the hoodie-wearing guy thought that maybe this was his cue. Letting the door close behind him, he took large steps to quicken the timing of his intervention.

"Is there a problem here?" he called out, his hands placed in the large front pocket of his hoodie.

Four heads turned to glance or look at him. At least one didn't look happy to see him. One showed no emotion whatsoever. That last one was the girl.

"None of your business, pal," one of the flannel-wearing men retorted. He had his back turned towards the hoodie-wearing male and looked away as if there were no threat.

Ignoring the guy, Victor trained his gaze on the girl, "Are these guys bothering you?"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" the first guy to speak demanded.

"I'm fine," the girl spoke up, her voice somewhat soft yet utterly bland. It was easy to hear her without straining your ears, another thing to add to the list that was off about her.

"You sure?"

"She said she was fine," one of the other men stated. "Go back inside man."

"Sorry, but when I see three big guys like you standing around a little thing like that, I get a bit concerned," Victor replied. "From where I'm standing, it doesn't look like anything is fine."

The man whose back had been facing him turned around fully, giving Victor the stink eye. Sticking a hand in his pocket, he pulled out a switchblade, flicking the blade open with a flick of his wrist. Taking a step of warning to the interloper, the man stated, "This is none of your business. Take off."

Victor clenched his teeth though kept his lips shut. This guy looked like the type of guy who was used to getting his way, and when he didn't… Obviously, he was the leader of this trio, or at the very least he was the muscle. The other two didn't look worried or anything about this turn of events.

Victor breathed through his nose loudly, wondering to himself what he was getting himself into. By all accounts, he should turn around and leave. Pressing forward would only make things...awkward. However, his eye flickered up to the girl who was returning eye contact with him. That in effect cinched it.

"Now I know I need to make it my business," is what he said, but he was calling himself an idiot for not doing what his non-existent gut was telling him to do.

The guy with the knife narrowed his eyes. With a few steps, he was in Victor's personal space and was full out glaring at him.

"You don't want to do this," Victor stated. "Just leave the girl alone and we go our separate ways."

"Screw that," the guy spat as he lunged forward and stabbed his knife into Victor's lower torso. Yeah, lower torso. Turns out, he was bigger than this guy by at least a head, head and a half tops. Yanking one of his hands out of the hoodie pocket, he grabbed onto the guy's lower arm and held on tight.

The guy tried to yank his arm away but only used enough force to pull himself closer to Victor by accident. "What the…?" The man tried to pull away and when that didn't work, he slugged the bigger male in the chest. For his efforts, the guy drew his fist back quickly, giving a cry of pain as he did.

The other two were alarmed but making no moves yet. Victor, on the other hand, began to move his captive's arm away from him, the guy's knife still clutched in the fleshy grip. Or, what was left of the knife since it looked like the blade had snapped off. There wasn't even a bloodstain where he had been stabbed.

"Hate to break this to you," Victor began as he increased the tightness of his grip, bones giving away under the force he exerted, "but knives don't work on me."

The former tough guy was crying out in pain as he fell to his knees. He grasped at the captured arm, desperately trying to free himself. Lifting his head up, the guy got a different angle of Victor's face, which caused him to pause and widen his eyes. Okay, it looked like things were getting more awkward.

"What...are you?" the guy gasped out through his pain.

"None of your business," Victor quipped as he tossed his would be attacker away from him. He went several feet before skidding on his ass against the pavement.

Scrambling as best as he could to his feet, the guy turned tail and ran off, much to his buddies' confusion. However, seeing that their strongman was out of the game, they hightailed it after him, vanishing into the night.

Yeah, this was firmly in awkward territory now. Might as well make the best of it.

"You okay?" he asked as he turned to the girl, who surprisingly had not moved an inch. She was staring him down, somehow not affected by the show of strength earlier.

"I am fine," she stated after a moment. "You did not need to intervene."

Now Victor was frowning. "Too late for that now."

"Yes," the girl agreed.

However, before more words could be exchanged, the flashing lights of a cop car interrupted the moment, and Victor could only swear to himself. Somebody had called the cops and they had made good time it seemed.

He had underestimated how awkward this whole thing was about to get.

* * *

Tim let out a quick exhale of air through his lips as he came to a stop. So far, all his testing of the new cape had been going great. Beyond all expectations, really.

The costumed teen had started off with a few jumps off moderately high buildings, three stories tops, the grapple claw at the ready. He always made sure that he didn't have to go more than ten feet, about the width of your standard city alley, to reach a lower building. First few jumps ended with him on his back and only after rolling when he overestimated his speed.

As the night wore on, he made his adjustments, both on his body and on his planning. Deactivating the cape the instant before his feet made contact with the roof he was landing on tended to allow him to stay on said feet. It helped to develop his personal technique so when he went with higher buildings and longer glides, he had a good idea of what he needed to do.

With each jump and each glide, he felt alive. The air rushing against and past his face, the feeling of weightlessness he felt, and the improvements in his gliding skills urged him to do more and more. The line between being a professional vigilante and an adrenaline-junkie teen was starting to become a bit blurred right now.

How long he had been testing had escaped him, and as a result, he found himself in an unfamiliar part of the city. He had intended to stay towards the commercial areas, but now he was closer to being downtown. Not what he had intended, and maybe he had been subconsciously drawn towards the taller buildings that were located in this area, but Tim was thinking that this would be a good time to head back.

The transplanted teen was doing what his older partner had recommended, and this was something to take seriously. If he didn't know all what the changes that had been made to his costume were capable of, when he eventually began actual patrols, he might find himself doing more harm than good. That kind of stuff would catch certain people's attention, and he didn't want that right now.

Okay, Tim, time to get your bearings. Damn, this was not the time to be considering getting his hands on some sort of GPS system. It would certainly come in handy so that he could really map this place out.

Well, there were other tools he could use. Like the small pair of binoculars he had. With those, he could try to find some landmark he recognized and then make his way over. Pulling them out, Tim peered through them and scanned the city around him, moving slowly so as not to unintentionally miss something.

Hold on a second.

Increasing the focus, the vigilante teen zoomed in on what he assumed was a nice-looking apartment complex. It was towards an open window that he spied on and a black-clothed individual slipping his way out of it.

By sight alone, it appeared that he had spotted a crime in action, a simple breaking, entering, and possible theft. At the same time, it could be someone sneaking out to do...whatever there was to do in Jump City. In Gotham, there was the night scene, which included clubbing and other places gambling. A lot of stuff that could get you into a lot of trouble. This place couldn't be too different in that regard.

But why the dark clothing? Increasing the focus again revealed that there was cloth over the person's head, vaguely resembling a ski mask. Trying to blend in with the night _and_ concealing your identity. Now that was even more suspicious. And what was that? Thanks to its dark color, Tim almost missed the pack that was on the person's back. It was much too small to put anything in it.

This called for a closer inspection.

He followed the figure's movements through the binoculars, observing as the person climbed up onto the roof of that apartment complex. Couldn't tell if he had climbing equipment, and if not, damn, must be one of those spider-man climbers. You know, the kind of people who climbed structures without any climbing equipment. Crazy if you asked him.

This masked individual was going left. Alright, guess it was time to make chase and maybe relive the good old days. Tucking the binoculars back onto his person, Tim started with a jog before breaking into a run. Activating the glider cape, he leapt off the building he was currently on and flew after his quarry.

The person he was following had begun a run of his own, and much to the gliding teen's amusement, he jumped off the apartment complex and over to the building next to it. That brought some nostalgia. The masked person continued moving, jogging across this rooftop as well, but he was not going to get a chance to jump to the next building.

Tim was moving much too fast thanks to the cape. Already he had caught up and was over this alleged thief. As if sensing something was wrong, the masked individual skidded to a halt, his head whipping around to spot anything unusual. He didn't look up so Tim let himself fly past the dark-clothed person before deactivating the cape and dropping to the roof.

Ooh, he winced as he landed on his feet, knees buckling under his weight. Should have gone into a roll there. Or he should have been lower. Power though it man, you just made your entrance.

Facing the unscrupulous masked man, who had just frozen up upon spotting him, the teen vigilante let his lips curve upwards and spoke a greeting.

"A bit late to be sneaking out, hmm?"

* * *

Green eyes snapped open. Smoke filled the air, forcing Koriand'r's lungs to spasm, trying to cough it out.

Entry into the planet's atmosphere had been more violent than anticipated. It did not help either that her ship was damaged beforehand. It was a miracle that she was still in one piece, but her escape would not be as successful as it could be if she did not live long enough to reap the reward.

Placing her hand over her nose and mouth, she hoped to prevent anymore impure air from entering her body, though getting out of this ship would resolve that more effectively.

A sloshing sound alerted her to another element of her situation. There was some kind of liquid that had entered the crashed ship and it was approximately waist deep. It was flooding, with what she did not know. Escape from her escape spacecraft was her new objective.

Removing herself from the piloting seat, Koriand'r moved sluggishly through the flooding liquid. Because of its thickness, her leg movements were slowed down. Up ahead, she spotted through narrowed eyes the exit to the ship. Through the supposed sealed door, more of this liquid rushed it, disturbing the flooding with a current.

This vessel was more damaged than she thought.

Utilizing what strength she had left, she forced her way to the door. Stretching one of her arms out, she reached for the door with one hand. As her hand approached the metal surface, the green energy through which she had seized her chance of escape encircled the limb. She pressed her glowing hand against the door, her forehead furrowing as she struggled to concentrate. The lack of breathable air made this more challenging than it needed to be.

She had no choice, if she wanted to live. She slowly began increasing the intensity of the energy, making it stronger and stronger. The minutes passed by and the liquid was slowly rising. As the height of the liquid reached her chest, she pushed forward with her extended arm. The metal began giving before her—then the flow of the liquid increased dramatically.

Koriand'r found herself shoved back opposite to her only exit and pinned against the surface behind her by the current. Narrowed eyes glared straight ahead as the liquid reached up to her nose. Putting both of her hands behind her back, she fired off as powerful of a blast as she could.

Like a spear, she pierced through the current first, then the damaged door, and finally out of her escape craft. She was surrounded by more of the liquid that had been filling the ship, but she kept firing her energy until she broke out of it, air rushing against her face.

Then she sank back down into the liquid.

Breaching the surface once more, Koriand'r gasped for and gulped down air. Quickly, she scanned around, finding nothing but a sea of this mysterious liquid. Some of it entered her mouth, filling it with the taste of sodium chloride. While she did not mind that taste, too much of it was not acceptable. She had to spit it out. At least it was not acidic. If anything, it had the consistency of...dihydrogen monoxide?

That was...a bit of a relief. She was surrounded by dihydrogen monoxide and sodium chloride. Nothing too dangerous for her. Staying in it for too long was not preferable. Just because it was not toxic to her species did not mean she could not drown in it.

Waves of the sea were pushing her, but where too? It was hard to tell since she had arrived on the part of the planet not facing its orbital star. So where was a dry place to go to? As tired as she was, maybe she could use her life energy one more time and at least warm the liquid around herself so that she may not be affected by the cold? As warm as her body ever was, the chill that the dihydrogen monoxide possessed was beginning to have an effect over her.

If...if she remembered correctly, the planet's moon should have some sort of power over the tide, correct? So if she followed the tide, it should bring her to some sort of land, correct? Koriand'r, in this new world she found herself in, found she had little choice. And...and if her mind was not playing optical illusions on her, there was a glow in that direction over there. The glow was constant, and further observation revealed that it did not change in its consistency. The tide was also propelling her in that direction anyway, so it was as good a way to head.

Hopefully it was not a big mistake and her grand escape would only result in her premature death.

* * *

Guest: Certainly more than Koriand'r and Victor. As this chapter shows, we have a couple more introductions. Next chapter should be more informative unless you can guess who as entered the story.


	3. Conceived in Battle

Author's Note: Bit of a warning, there may be a scene here that may make people uncomfortable. A little real world controversy, but hopefully it doesn't turn too many people off. Regardless, enjoy.

Conceived in Battle

At some point during this night, caution had been tossed aside. Tim would admit that had probably happened an hour or two ago. Because confronting a suspected thief on the first night you were testing some new equipment on top of a several month absence from crime-fighting was a very smart thing to do.

It was easy to tell that the thief was eyeing him, most likely because they were caught off guard by his appearance. Heh, maybe he was starting to put some fear into these guys by his presence alone. Was this what it was like for Batman?

Then, "Nice outfit Peter Pan. I think the school play's in the other direction."

Any smugness Tim felt vanished instantly. "Sorry, but I was missing my shadow. Looks like I found him," he deadpanned as he uncrossed his arms.

The thief snorted. "That's the best you can do. Why don't you beat it back home, kid? Dress up may be fun for you, but I'm bored." Thanks to the mask, the voice was muffled but still audible. It made the teen vigilante think of this person as a douche.

"Can't. I don't know what you were doing back there, but I'm curious and yes, I'm making it my business," the costumed teen stated, covering all possible points this thief might counter him with.

"Curiosity killed the cat, but cats kill fairy birds too," the thief retorted.

Okay, that was the second time this asshole called him gay.

"One chance, what were you doing back there?" he demanded.

"If you're trying to scare me, you're failing. Badly. I'd say that this was interesting, but then I'd be lying." The thief had the gall to turn his back on the vigilante, preparing to leave.

Like hell. Pulling out a throwing projectile, he activated the explosive inside it and threw it, the disk whirling through the air until it hit the portion of the roof that the thief was facing. The thief gave a yelp at the small burst of flame and smoke, and Tim used that time to remove the distance between them. He grabbed the masked asshole by his shoulder and spun him around, his other hand balled into a fist and ready to nail him.

Tim didn't get the chance. The criminal decked him instead and with such force that the teen flew a few feet backwards, landing and skidding on his back before coming to a stop. For a second he was dazed before he realized that his current position was not right. Sitting up, he winced at he pressed a hand against his chest where he was struck.

The thief was glaring back at him, his body language screaming that he had had enough and was more than willing to have a fight. As Tim got back onto his feet, he figured that he was going to have to give this overly strong bastard one.

Hopefully he wasn't too rusty.

Pushing forward with his legs, the teen vigilante charged at the criminal. Said criminal was waiting for him to get close and was swinging away as soon as he was within range. The vigilante ducked under the blow and threw one of his own into the thief's gut. Spinning around the masked punk, he raised and threw his elbow into the thief's back, forcing him to meet the roof with the front of his body.

Taking a defensive stance, Tim waited for his opponent to push himself back up. The wariness that had been in the criminal's body earlier had returned, and surprisingly he too took up a stance. So, he was fighting someone who knew how to fight also? Let's see where this would go.

The thief struck first, a fist rushing through the air and hoping to make contact with the vigilante's face. Tim twisted his body enough to evade it, then twisted in the other direction to avoid the second punch. He jerked out of the way of a third punch, and followed that blocking the kick that came at him. He winced as he felt the force of the thief's leg ram into his arm.

The teen's feet skidded against the roof. Perhaps there had been more force than he realized. No time to think about it; the thief was on him again. Dodge that punch, latch onto the arm and bring it down so he couldn't use the limb, and—whoa, had to catch the elbow that was flung at him when the thief twisted around.

Bad move there. Even though the force the thief used in that elbow jab was greater than Tim had anticipated, he was able to stop it from connecting with his face. Now he was directly behind the thief and he was pinning both arms behind the asshole's back. That was the plan until the masked teen found himself being throwing over the thief.

The world blurred for a second and then his back met the roof. Air escaped from his lungs and the thief slipped his arms out of the vigilante's pin. A pair of legs placed themselves on either side of the teen's torso, a weight settling on his gut.

Why was he suddenly reminded of MMA fights? Instinctively, Tim brought his arms up to block anything coming out of his head. He was not disappointed, though the blow that he blocked rattled down to his bones. A second and a third punch was blocked before he determined that he needed to get out of this position.

As the fourth punch came, he tilted his head out of the way, the gloved fist cracking into the concrete beneath him. He wrapped his arm around the thief's and tugged down, causing the criminal to lean his weight to the left. With fingers curled in on themselves, Tim punched with the palm of his right hand, striking the thief in the chest and shoving him off.

For a second, he wondered why the thief's chest felt so soft. That was pushed out of his mind as he scrambled back onto his feet, the thief doing the same.

It shouldn't be as surprising as it was that he was breathing hard. Damn he was out of practice. Not that he could say the same about his opponent. Okay, he needed to do something different than take this bastard head on.

Before something, you know, amazing occurred to him, the thief was going on the attack. Swinging at him with a left hook, Tim instinctively reacted with a block, deflecting the blow with his lower left arm. By happenstance, the end of the thief's sleeve caught on to his glove and as a result there was a loud rip.

As the fist passed by his head, Tim's eyes widened as what looked like a pale gold gauntlet came into view. Staggering away, he held both of his arms in front of himself, staring at the unveiled gauntlet, a large strip of cloth dangling beneath it.

"Shit!" the thief swore, glaring at the vigilante. There was some unintelligible noise following that, most likely the thief speaking to himself though what words he said was a mystery. Whatever they were, Tim would not find out, because this mysterious thief went back on the attack, somehow faster than before. He managed to dodge one, two—oof! Couldn't get out of the way of the third.

And by God, that was a powerful hit! The masked teen was sent flying, unaided by his cape, and came crash down, rolling against the rooftop until he stopped at the edge. Pushing himself up, the vigilante froze as he saw masked criminal charging at him with long strides. He moved back in an effort to try and buy himself precious seconds to recover…

...and fell off the building.

Aw shit.

As air buffeted him, he quickly activated the glider cape, his descent slowing immediately even as gravity was pulling down on his lower half. Without thinking about, Tim flapped his arms down and unexpectedly rose up the air.

Whoa, hadn't expected that! What else was this thing capable of?

Then an idea occurred to him. Maybe he could use this. Whoever he was fighting, the guy really strong and looked like he was a competent fighter. So maybe long distance was what he needed to turn it around. And with the literal high ground...

Pulling out his grapple, he fired the hook up towards the rooftop he fell off and used it as a means to throw himself up, over, and high above the building that had been the fighting arena. He was ready, he was pumped, and he was determined to end this with a big fat victory.

And there was no one on the rooftop waiting for him.

Just that alone almost caused him to start plummeting to the ground again, but Tim caught himself in time to stay aloft. Where was? When…? What…?

Please do not tell him that the first crook he came across in this city had gotten away from him. Please tell him he was...he had gotten away. God. Damn. It.

And just when he had come up with a new strategy, that asshole!

Landing on the building's roof, the teen scowled. Looking this way and that and not finding anything or anyone, his mood further soured. Well this was great. Just perfect. What a way to really announce your return to being a vigilante once more. Just you wait, you son of a bitch, he was going to find you.

And when he did, he was so going to kick his ass!

* * *

For years, Victor had been warned about what to do and what not to do whenever a cop showed up. He had been warned that because of the color of his skin, he would be more likely to be met with hostility. A gun was more likely to be aimed at him than others with lighter hue skin.

There was no reason for it other than he was black. African American to be politically correct.

He had no idea on what he could put himself down as on a census form as of this minute because he highly doubted that African American could accurately describe his race at this point in his life.

None of that meant anything as the cop had pulled out his gun and ordered him to put his hands in the air. Now, this was Victor's first time having not only a cop yell at him but also having a gun pointed at him. In hindsight, he probably should have expected it. Lately, all the news seemed to report on were police shootings of minorities.

So here was the setup. He was standing in front of a diner, towering over this much smaller, almost a slip of a girl, and he was wearing a hoodie with the hood over his head. The only thing missing from this was a bag of Skittles.

Now, Victor had a couple concerns. For one, he had no idea if bullets were going to be any effective with him for...reasons. As far as he knew, knives were useless, but a small projectile traveling faster than the speed of sound? That, he had no clue about and did not want to find out about.

"I'm putting my hands up," he called out to the officer, one of his arms already reaching into the air. Unfortunately, his other hand was still in his hoodie pocket. When he had put it back in there, he couldn't remember—oh, wait, he was being reminded that he had done it unconsciously after he had run off those three guys. This new memory of his sucked with its bad timing.

"Put your hands up now!" the officer ordered again.

The girl whom he had valiantly come to the rescue to said and did nothing.

"There's nothing in my pocket!" he yelled to the police officer.

"Both of your hands! In the air!" the uniformed man shouted back. The gun the man held was steady, but the same could not be said of his fingers, specifically the one over the trigger.

"Don't shoot!" Victor pled back. "I am taking my hand out of my pocket."

"Hands in the air!"

Blowing air through his lips, the hoodie-wearing teen swallowed and slowly began tugging his hand out of the hoodie's front pocket. As the black-colored glove that encased his hand slipped from behind the cloth of the pocket, this was when the moment of truth would happen. Hopefully it would not be mistaken for another object that happened to be colored black.

The loud bang of gunfire dashed his hopes.

Immediately, he turned his head so that the left side faced the cop as more bullets were fired at him. By his count, and yes, he was keeping count, that was eight, no, make that nine shots fired at him. Seven of them hit him, six in his torso. The seventh got him in the side of his face. He felt no pain, just as he had with that knife earlier. As a hush fell over the area, Victor remained standing.

He did not fall to the ground.

With the hand he held in the air, he moved it towards the hoodie's hood and casually, he pushed it off. The officer fired another shot at him, probably terrified that he hadn't fallen to the ground like most people would. Well, he was about to give this guy a good reason to be terrified.

In the artificial light cast by the diner, the silver-colored metal that made up the left side of his head gleamed in the night. A red colored eye made of some tinted glass he knew not the name of glowed ominously and he tilted that part of his head towards the shocked cop. Even in this moment, he was not about to expose the rest of his very much fleshy head to this guy who had proven he was more than willing to shoot first and ask questions later.

Growling, he spat out, "You have anymore? Give me your best shot."

"I-I..." the officer stammered. "I...I need back up!" The uniformed man's voice raised in pitch, yelling into a radio receiver that was attached to his shoulder. "St-stay where you are! Don't you move!"

"I think it's a little too late for that," Victor stated as he lowered his raised arm. He crossed it over his chest with his other arm.

"Don't move! I mean it!"

Thanks to that red eye of his, he could see the fright he was inspiring in this country bumpkin. Wait, did they have bumpkins in the middle of a desert? Question for later, get back to the moment. With a thought, he could zoom in on the man's face, could detect all the facial features that expressed fear, and it was all saved into a file in his memory banks. All of this happened without him consciously doing so.

"You need to calm down."

Hmm, that wasn't his voice. And it felt like it was speaking to him and not him at the same time. Wait, that girl was still there. He had the capacity to save and record every little detail of his life, but he forgot that there was an innocent bystander only a few feet away, and shit, had she been hit by that cop's fire?

With his human eye, he searched for and found the girl who was now only a couple feet beside him. And she was invading his personal space too. What?

"Move away from that thing!" the cop yelled at her.

Maybe this was a sign that he had hadn't lost all of his nervous system, because Victor felt a chill run up his back. Slowly, the girl's head turned to face the cop. A whisper sliced through the air, followed by a yelp as the officer dropped his weapon, the gun clattering against the asphalt with a black glow.

Hold on a sec, how does something glow black?

"Backup…" the cop said in a whisper before shouting his lungs out, running for cover, "I need backup!"

"It would be best if we weren't here," the girl commented, speaking as if she was talking about the weather and not a future standoff with the police. The next thing Victor knew, the girl spoke some gibberish and the black, inky shadows rose around the two of them, blocking everything from sight.

"What the!" he cried out, unable to see anything beyond that black. What was happening? What was this girl doing?! Was he in any danger?!

And then the blackness fell, revealing nothing but desert all around, a simple road beside him and a sign that stated the speed limit. A starry sky stared down from above, almost picturesque. Everything was quiet now, and Victor had no idea of what to make of it.

"You're welcome," the girl stated.

Jerking, Victor directed both his human and red eye at this slip of a girl who showed no sign of being bothered at recent events. "What was that?" he exclaimed. "What happened?"

"That's a nice thank you there," the girl said wryly.

"This isn't making any sense!" the much taller male continued. "Wait, did you do that? How?!"

"Frankly, it's none of your business," the dark-haired girl replied. "I had thought that you might have wanted an escape out of the situation, and as thanks for your earlier, unneeded intervention, I have provided it. You are welcome."

Victor opened his mouth, but found no words coming out. Oh, c'mon, say something, anything!

"I trust that you haven't been injured in those altercations either, correct?" the girl inquired, sounding as disinterested as she someone could possibly be.

"...yeah, that's right," he ended up confirming. Which reminded him, his hoodie. Aw man, there were holes it, both from the stabbing and the bullets. Did people not know how hard it was for him to get one of these and in his size? Hold up, what's that? Digging through the pullover jacket, he removed a knife blade, the very one that had tried to pierce him. So that's what happened to it.

He tossed it away, not caring if he was littering.

"You're not bleeding," the girl commented, eyeing him. Glancing up at his face, she added, "I presume that there's more metal on you that what I see."

"Uh huh," he confirmed, then paused. Why was he answering her? He knew nothing of her! "What about you? Who are you?" A thought occurred to him. "And why was my help 'unneeded'?"

"I'm no one you need to know about. In fact, I would recommend we go our separate ways here," was the quick reply. She did not sound rushed, continuing to speak normally. Oh she was hiding something, but didn't sound like she was.

"I don't know, do you always attract that kind of attention?" he challenged back.

"No. That was one off," she answered, being straightforward. "Most people don't pay attention to me. With that said, farewell."

Victor blinked as this caped girl started walking down the road. Correction, it was a highway. The speed limit sign said so.

He should have let this weirdo go on her merry way and he his. Really, she was none of his concern. They knew almost nothing about each other. In fact, it would be better that way. Except, he had no idea where they were and which direction that truck stop had been. For all he knew, he'd be walking right back to it.

Odds were good that this girl was heading away from it, so, it stood to reason he should head that way too. They could split up later and forget the other existed.

"Hey, where you heading to?" he called out after her, taking large strides to catch up.

"Nowhere in particular. Why?" The tone of the girl's voice had shifted a bit, had a little edge to it.

"Funny, because I'm heading nowhere in particular too," he replied. "I don't know what you did back there or where we are now, but I bet that where you're heading right now is away from what went down back there. I don't know about you, but I'd like to avoid it."

"And how do you know I'm not going that way?" The girl raised an eyebrow at him as she spoke, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"Call it a...gut feeling," he trailed off lamely. "You don't seem like the type to go looking for trouble."

"So you say."

A moment of silence passed between them, Victor getting that awkward feeling again. This silence with whoever this girl was was not comfortable, at least for him. So, in the interest of having some kind of noise, other than their footsteps, he gave his name.

"I'm Victor."

The girl hmmed.

"You know, it's polite to give someone their name when they give you theirs."

"Who ever said I was polite?"

Though he didn't say it, that was touché.

* * *

It was a simple two-story house in one of the better neighbors in the city. The lights were off, the garage door closed, and no signs of activity within. The outside was a different story as a dark-clothed figure strolled up to the front door as if it owned the place.

Picking up a nearby potted plant, the figure removed a small key that was hidden underneath it, the key soon used to unlock the door and allow the person to enter. Closing the door behind them, the figure flipped on the nearest light switches and flooded the ground floor with light.

As a ski mask was pulled off, blonde hair tumbled around clothed shoulders. The long locks reached midway down the person's back, moving wispily as they moved further into the home. Blue eyes looked down irritably as a torn sleeve, scanning over the gauntlet that was very visible to anybody with eyes.

Great, she needed to find another shirt.

Her full name was Cassandra Sandsmark. She preferred Cassie because Cassandra was too long to spell out on school assignments. Plus it was way too formal for her tastes. When she wasn't out in the city doing some breaking and entering, she was an "average" high school student.

Yeah, that was in quotes. Because she was not an average student. She didn't like going to school. At all. It was boring as hell and the only reason she was still going was because a bleeding heart truant officer was snooping around too much. It was all about keeping the heat off her that she still went.

But when the final bell rang, she was one of the first out and back to the streets. Her obligations to society ended there and it was all about finding the next mark.

See, she was a girl that liked excitement. Who didn't? It just so happened that sneaking around in other people's homes, uninvited naturally, was what got her adrenaline pumping. She liked that feeling, maybe more than anybody she knew.

Besides, it wasn't like she was in any kind or too much danger. The gauntlet, or gauntlets, that she was wearing would see to anything that got in her way. What was the story behind those? None of anyone's business.

At least, it hadn't been until tonight. Who had been that guy? He comes out of nowhere, uses some kind of explosive, and refused to leave. A closer look at the guy showed that whatever outfit he was wearing, it wasn't some homemade crap that some people made for comic book and video game conventions. Something was really off about it.

Even more surprising, the guy had some moves on him. He knew how to throw a punch and how to dodge. That was more than what most people knew. Still, when she had got going, the fight had gone pretty much her way. Until her sleeve got ripped up somehow.

Whatever. This had to be a one off or something. Pure chance. She had been in some douchebag's place, permanently borrowing a small statuette that had caught her eye. There was no way he could have known she was hitting that place on this night at that time. Unless he was some stalker, which she doubted. Her gaydar was really going off before and during that fight.

Speaking of statuettes.

Taking a seat on a couch, she slipped off the small backpack she wore and unzipped it. Carefully, she pulled out the small, stone figurine of a woman in robes. Everything about it screamed Greek at her, and she always had had an interest and preference for Greek stuff. This was a goddess, had to be since the small woman had a helm on her head. Which one, though? Cassie could smell a Google search in her future.

This was a keeper. Another one to add to her collection. Then it was all about finding the next one. Call her a klepto, if you wanted, but there was more to this than borrowing from someone that could afford it. She had her reasons and they weren't anybody else's to know.

Still, who had been that guy? Was he new to the scene, another thief? Oh wait, maybe he was one of those wannabe superhero types. By looks alone, he looked better than most people and if memory served, he was better equipped for it than most.

You know what? Next time she went out, she'd bring more than just the gauntlets. If this guy, whoever he was, was planning to make a pest of himself, she'd be prepared for him.

Sure, last she saw him, he fell off a building, but her gut told her that it hadn't been fatal. Call it instinct. He probably had some kind of gadget that would get him out of the situation just fine.

Should he ever show his face again, she'd give him a very good reason to retire early.

* * *

By X'hal, luck was with her. The tide had indeed brought Koriand'r to land, and the glow she had spied out had been more than a steady source of light. It was a settlement. Even from where she stood, could see it easily.

She had to remind herself, though, that even with all this luck, she was on an unknown planet. She had no idea who had settled it, or what they were like. If past experience hinted correctly, the dominant species could be incredibly aggressive and hostile to other races. It was a question if they had ever had contact with an extraterrestrial race before. There was a reason why Gordanians, ever arrogant, became uncharacteristically cautious.

Running over to the settlement was therefore risky. Koriand'r could find herself in a situation that was as unfavorable as the one she had recently escaped from. There was no way to tell what reactions she could expect from the natives. She did not know what they looked like. Did they have scales? How many arms? The number of hearts they possessed. More importantly, what kind of weaponry did they have? Was it powerful enough to inflict bodily harm on her?

A growl in the lower region of her body protested against such caution. She had experienced so much physical exertion today, and was thus requesting sustenance to replenish her energy reserves. How could she ignore her bodily needs, especially if her aims were to continue existing?

Had this mysterious planet been her native Tamaran, her knowledge of various food sources would have been enough to allow her a solitary existence without drawing unwanted attention. This was not Tamaran, but a mysterious planet in which she knew not what the name of it was. She did not know what was edible, what was toxic, and knew not how to obtain such information.

There was potential danger all around her. Threats unseen that could end her currently miserable life.

She was not helpless, though. The alien girl's prowess in martial ability and manipulation of life energies provided her with adequate defensive capabilities. There was a chance that she could be a more formidable foe to any lifeform that encountered her.

Such beliefs were tempered by the memory of enslavement and torture she had endured.

A decision was needed. That much was certain.

Koriand'r was not ready to surrender. Not to her former enslavers. Not to biological functions. And not to fear and uncertainty. If she wished to continue living, she would have to take risks to ensure it. Until a haven could be found, she would need to be on guard. With no knowledge of the geographical surroundings around her, she would have to take her chances in the settlement.

With unsteady steps, the alien vagabond continued on her journey into the unknown.

* * *

Guest: I'm betting this answers the question of who Red Robin found.


	4. Searching for Intelligence

Searching for Intelligence

A mug of coffee sat innocently in front of Victor, steam rising from the dark-colored liquid.

What was he doing here in a coffee shop? After the diner, he had had a feeling that avoiding such places would have been the way to go. Rachel, the girl he had tagged along with, thought otherwise. And with the morning sun rising over the horizon, she had been very insistent on it.

And if you were wondering how he managed to get her name out of her, luck he supposed? At some point, she had given it to him, all the while he had been trying to come up with a plan to con it out of her. He had given her his name already; it was reasonable that she would give him hers in return, right?

"Why so quiet?" Rachel asked as she lowered her own cup. "Earlier I couldn't get you to shut up. Now you won't entertain me with your banter."

"Sorry. Was thinking," Victor found himself apologizing, realizing a second later that he didn't need to.

Rachel hmmed, not bothering to ask about what. Instead, her eyes trained themselves on his untouched beverage. "I hope you aren't letting my generosity go to waste. You haven't tried it yet."

"That's because I'm not sure I can," he admitted. With his hood over his head once again, he took a quick look around the shop. So far, no one was paying him any attention, but like at the diner, it could all go to hell in an instance.

"Have you ever tried?" the dark haired girl asked. "I would assume the organic part of you would need some kind of nutrients. Unless I'm mistaken."

"I guess," the half-robotic—as far as you know—male said, shrugging his shoulders. Because of programs in the robotic portion of him, he did have saved memories where he had eaten and drank before. All of that, though, was months ago, and he hadn't done it since.

"You guess as in you can, or you don't know," his female companion inquired further. When he didn't answer, she tried a different tact, "Do you know if it will interfere with your non-organic parts?"

"Do you know that you're getting into stuff you don't need to know?" Victor retorted. "I'm fine, anyway. You can have it."

"Now I'm insulted," Rachel quipped.

"You know, for complaining about me not shutting up earlier, you're being very chatty yourself," he pointed out.

"I'm a naturally curious person. Sue me." Rachel took her turn to shrug her shoulders, but her eyes were directed as him now and not going anywhere. "You're the first person I've met in a long time that's captured my attention. It's not often anybody decides to come to my rescue, even if I never needed it in the first place."

"That's the most you've ever said to me in such a short period of time," Victor remarked.

"Don't get used to it."

Yeah, yeah, because this was a temporary setup. In due time, they'd be going their own ways, no looking back and all that. He got it.

"Do you think it a smart idea for a guy like me to tell someone my story when they have no intention of sticking around?" he asked rhetorically. "A guy like me has gotta be careful, you know? For all I know, you're really a blabbermouth when no one's looking and whatever you say might get back to people I don't want finding me."

"Are you hiding from something? Or someone?"

"Kinda sorta," Victor found himself answering before he could think about it. Stopping himself, the hoodie-wearing male almost scowled at himself. So much for trying to stay mysterious.

"I see. You're running away, not hiding," Rachel commented, eerily perceptive.

Before he could stop himself, "How'd you know that? Ah crap."

"The way you are acting," the girl explained without pause. "You are deliberately trying to hide yourself. Only people trying to hide or run do such a thing. I wasn't sure at first, since half your face is cybernetic. You have cleared so much up."

Oh Jesus, she was a smart cookie, wasn't she? A regular brainiac or Sherlock Holmes. She was picking so much up from so little information, it was almost a waste of time trying to hide anything from her.

"So, what or who are you running from?" Rachel prompted. "If you won't drink my coffee, they I expect something in lieu of gratitude."

For what? Did he owe her something? If it was escaping that truck stop the night before, him coming to her rescue should have been payment enough. Oh whatever.

Picking up the cup of Joe, he took a sip from it and almost spit it out because damn, it was still hot! For a mouth that hadn't had anything in it in a while, it was like a monster rearing its head out of a millennia long hibernation, demanding more, _more_ , _MORE_! Taste, he had almost forgotten what that was. And temperature!

"Easy there," his female patron cautioned him, amusement coloring her voice.

Swallowing what he had sipped, Victor lowered the cup and gave a sigh. "Okay, it's been a while," he sighed. Without another prompt, he took another sip. Had almost the same reaction but it was more manageable this time. "Alright, I drank your coffee. Are we even?"

"Personally, I was hoping you would have talked instead." A shrug of clothed shoulders. "Your face, from what I could see of it, was worth the five dollars I paid."

" _Five bucks for a cup of coffee?!_ " he exclaimed, directing all attention in the coffee shop towards him. Shrinking in on himself, he waiting until the annoyed gazes looked away before hissing, "When did that happen?"

"I'm assuming that whatever happened to you removed you from the world for a while," Rachel commented. "The price of coffee has been steadily rising for the past few years."

"Since when?!"

"I don't know. Since when did you lose half your face?"

"A few years ago. Oh, damn it."

Why was it he couldn't keep his mouth shut? It was like this girl had an ability to coax any and all information out of him without trying.

"So anywhere between three and four years ago?"

"Look, little Miss Sherlock, stop trying to con my past out of me. Unless you're willing to do some _quid pro quo_ yourself, quit it will you?"

Oh wow, that shut her up. But now it was an awkward silence there. Oh damn, now he was feeling a little guilty for snapping at her. And even when she had been so nice to buy him something caffeinated to drink. That he was now taking another sip of and only wincing from the strong reaction his organic parts were giving.

Wait, this was a mind game, wasn't it? Even though she didn't show any sign of being bothered by what he said. Oh, he was catching onto you, little girl, heh heh. This _was_ a mind game, right?

"I apologize, you're right," Rachel said.

Was this another part of the game?

"Stop being so suspicious. I'm being sincere."

Victor narrowed his one natural eye. "Did...did you just read my mind?"

"I could." Another shrug. "But no. I happen to be really good at reading emotions. You aren't doing much to hide them."

Was that it? Was she really reading his emotions? Was that how it seemed like she could real his mind? Well, huh. Hadn't expected that. Wait, hold on.

"You can read minds?" he asked dumbly.

Rachel paused. Visibly. Then, "Consider that payment for exposing as much of your past as you have."

Victor gaped at her.

" _Quid pro quo_."

And now she was throwing his own words back at him. Great.

Oh well. It didn't really matter. They weren't going to be sticking together for long, right? Yeah, that was right. They'd be parting ways soon enough. He would be putting the girl who could read minds and emotions behind and continue this solitary existence he had.

Whether he liked or wanted it, this "beautiful" friendship would be coming to an end anyway.

He could deal without that wit though.

* * *

School was a place where you were supposed to sit still and listen to the lectures of the teacher at the front of the room who allegedly knew what they were talking about. You were there to learn about a limited amount of subjects and to master them, whether or not it led to higher education or employment immediately after graduation.

Tim was paying scant attention to his English teacher, the subject about punctuation or something. Like he was going to need to know how to use periods and commas and all that.

Instead of listening to all that, he was more focused on that thief he had encountered the night before. The teen was pouring over every second that he could remember of that fight, how he fought and acted, how the thief took over, everything. In the beginning, he thought he was doing alright, especially since this was the first encounter he had after his unwilling hiatus.

It became obvious that this thief knew how to fight. That was saying a lot since Tim was used to taking on the thugs of Gotham. The worst he had had to face there were highly trained assassins and Man-bats. With those, he had stayed long distance as much as possible, only every once in awhile taking it close quarter. Here, it was up close and personal from the beginning.

He was going to have to get into better shape then. No question about that.

However, there was one bit that troubled him more than anything. That gauntlet the thief had been wearing under his sleeve. Why was he wearing that? It didn't make any sense. And why hide it? Unless that was what the thief had really stolen? Then could it be that backpack had the thief's burglary tools in it instead?

Okay, so he needed to see if there were any reports of armor being stolen recently. Yeah, you'd think the news would report on something like that. The internet wasn't blowing up on it yet, so maybe the cops had a lid on it for now? Still, what could you do with armored gauntlets? The only thing he could think of would be to sell. But who would buy them?

Well, besides some rich, hoity-toity type with too much money and time on their hands. That was an avenue of investigation to look in to. Better than having no leads whatsoever like he did now.

Before he had gone to school that morning, he had looked up the address of that apartment complex, and did some research on it. Upper middle class housing with maybe those on the lower part of the upper class. So people with some money. Unfortunately, he couldn't look up anything on any reported robberies there since his Mom got on his case to get to school that morning.

Damn, his pride had been bruised last night, hadn't it? Aside from his arms, which were a bitch to cover up. It really was like he had been in an MMA fight. Seriously, why had that asshole been so tough?

"A comma does what class? Anyone? A comma is used to show a pause in a sentence. So, which part, of this sentence, would have commas, separating it?"

Sorry, Tim needed to tune back in for a moment. The teacher was still in lecture mode and not calling on anybody. Yet. There had been a second that made him hold his breath, because he had no idea what they were talking about. They were on commas, and that showed a pause in sentences. Right. Back to more important things.

Things like how he was going to find that thief again. When the teen thought about it, he realized it was only by chance that he had run into the guy in the middle of his crime. If it hadn't been for that, the dark-haired adolescent would have never crossed paths with him. How was he going to track this criminal down when he didn't know, a, who he was, b, what kind of things he stole, and c, where he was going to strike next.

If this wasn't the first time and he knew what captured this thief's attention in the first place, he'd be able to either find a pattern or predict where he would strike next. And then, gauntlets or a full set of armor, or whatever, none of it would save that bastard's face from his fists.

This was almost a blessing in disguise. A real good motivator to get him back into fighting shape and ready to be a real vigilante once again.

If this was going to work, he'd need a plan.

* * *

This planet was strange. More specifically, its dominant species was strange. There was no one particular trait that stuck out to Koriand'r. Instinctively, she had known that there were going to be differences between herself and the various races she had been exposed to.

In fact, in appearance, these natives resembled Tamaranians. They had the same outward bodily structures. They had varying lengths of protein filaments, depending on the individual, and they came in difference colors, primarily browns, yellows, and blacks. Two eyes, a singular nasal cavity, and odd, fleshy protrusions on either side of the head that made the alien transient think they were ears were among other features that were easily noticed.

Two arms, two legs, bipedal movement, some more similarities between herself and them. They did not seem as sturdy as other races she had met. Their musculature was very thin, a sign that physically speaking, they were not incredibly strong. Then again, the garments they wore seemed specifically designed to cover all that up with their bagginess, creating an illusion this species was bigger than it really was.

This was different from what she currently wore, the standard uniform of a Gordanian slave. Dark in color, bland in design, and tightly fitted over her bright hue of skin. Comfort, it was not intended to be. The physical attributes of the wearer were intentionally emphasized. The only reason it covered the majority of the body was to insulate body heat and protect against interstellar radiation, a common risk associated with galactic travel.

The only accessories provided where gray-colored boots and wristlets, a common symbol of bondage among Gordanians. Lastly, there was a headpiece shaped as a helm with extensions that ran down along the sides of her face. It was a flourish that singled her out as important for one reason or another.

Oh, there was another difference. The skins. Koriand'r had observed varying degrees of color in the epidermis of this race. Tamaranians were similar in a way, but not to the degree of this race. Some were very light complected, others were the opposite and extremely dark colored. Then there were others in the middle, dark but not too dark. Yet, you could almost separate them into groups by their skin color, giving room for varying degrees of lightness and darkness. It was bizarre.

Out of all the traits she had observed, the sole important one that she had been searching for was language. Imagine her relief as she listened for any signs of communication and listened to these creatures until they opened their oral orifice and a jumble of sounds were finally emitted. So they too spoke through the mouth. Marvelous!

Though she knew not what was said, she had picked up on similarities between sounds. As if the same words were being spoken. Good, so a shared and standard language was shared among them. That made it easier.

In theory. Since she did not want to alert the natives that they had a visitor on their world, and so wished to remain in hiding, the visitor had been trying to see if she could single one out and ambush them. Luck had not been with her as the opportunity she needed never presented itself.

As a result, she had unintentionally moved further into the settlement. On the positive side, there were a lot more of this species the further she ventured in. There were more niches she could secret herself in as she searched and waited for her desired opportunity. The constructed structures became larger and taller the closer to the settlement's center she became.

On the negative side, there were a lot more of the species. They became more and more grouped up, even if a particular member was alone. Eyes were everywhere, and Koriand'r didn't want to risk alerting any of them.

It seemed whatever courage she had gained to force her escape had been used up.

Like she had been taught, she waited, watched, and stalked, searching for the chance she needed. In the meantime, there were other necessities that required her attention. Such as sustenance. Stress and anxiety could only distract you from hunger for so long.

Maybe that was a benefit of moving further into the settlement. Though there were a lot of smells, some less pleasant than others, she was able to single out the more promising ones. Tracing these odors, she discovered various facilities offering nutrients in both solid and liquid form. Further observations revealed that these lifeforms consumed their sustenance through their oral orifices, so that was another similarity between their races.

Koriand'r had spent some time trying to discover a means to obtain these consumables without exposing her presence. After spending a couple galactic standard weeks pondering the means how she could achieve such a goal, by serendipity did she discover, periodically, the vendors would leave through an exit hidden from view of the crowds of people with bags of refuse, including uneaten nourishment and place them in large containers.

These containers had foul odors emanating from them, however, a beggar could not be a chooser. If Koriand'r wished to sustain herself, then through refuse should she nourish herself.

That left the problem of language acquisition, but that would have to come whenever the first opportunity with the minimal amount of risk presented itself. Patience was a must for this, and she had had to practice being such in the not too distant past.

Because there was a reason the Gordanians had become very quiet when traversing this sector of the galaxy. With all the might and self-important behavior, they were afraid of something that resided on this planet. It was very reasonable to make herself keep a low profile on it too so as to not alert this force to her imposed exile here.

Until she was able to find a way to leave this place and return to her homeworld, she was stranded here until further notice.

For the time being, all she could do was wait and survive.

* * *

Once school had ended, Tim had headed home as soon as possible, determined to come up with a way to track down his quarry. That meant getting on the computer and doing a very broad yet specific Google search on any and all burglaries in the past several months. Deliberately, he kept an eye out for anything on last night.

Who knows, maybe someone else had noticed a pattern. That would mean some of the teen's work would be done for him.

Unfortunately, all he was using was not the top of the line computing equipment like Barbara used nowadays. It was something you could get at one of the big retail stores, an electronic store. That was where his parents got this computer, the one he was using for this investigation.

A first world problem indeed.

Processing power was not too much of an issue. Knowing what search terms to use as well as how to limit results was more useful here, and it was a skill he did know. That was something he had learned, oddly enough, in school and practiced on in his free time. Why? Because he had a lot of free time since moving out of Gotham, that's why.

Now he could put it to use. And still come away with little to no information. Alright, so no reports on some burglar or robber breaking into people's home. Well, there was something about some cat burglar making the national rounds, but Tim figured them to be an urban myth. He did look into it, but there was a supposed calling card left behind and he did not know enough about the thief he was chasing to determine if it was the same person.

Was he going to have to do some breaking and entering himself to find this kind of information? Hell, he didn't even know what was stolen!

Great, this was giving the teen a headache.

Taking a break, Tim pushed away from the computer and slumped in his seat. This would be so much easier if had some kind of help, the kind that knew what they were doing. Normally, he'd asked Barbara, but after getting her to ship over his redesigned costume and gear against her better judgment, he didn't want to ask more of her. It wasn't as if she didn't have better things to do, like focus on rebuilding the Batclan and patrolling Gotham. He was in Jump City now, a different environment that the computer hacker had no allegiance to.

This was something he had to do on his own, to prove that he was not out of the game. Not when the young vigilante had but returned to it. It was in the stubborn adolescent's nature accomplish a goal once he set it. If he was going to take down that thief, then by God he would take the asshole down hard.

Tim's eyes lowered, peering down at his hands. Balling them into fists, he was reminded of another thing he needed to do. To get back into fighting shape again. It wasn't going to be enough to simply find this thief again if he couldn't beat him into submission. If the guy could throw him off buildings every time, catching the asshole was going to be that much harder.

If nothing else, the exercise would let him get his mind off of failed Google searches. Who knows, he might come up with some new search terms to try out after letting his mind rest a moment.

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted his thoughts. Looking up, Tim called out, "Yeah?"

The door creaked open. "You're home early, Tim," his mother spoke. "I didn't think you'd get back so soon."

"Yeah, got a lot of homework," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. It was a preplanned excuse he had, in case either of the folks wanted to check on him. That he had come up with it so quickly bothered the teen a bit. He had never expected to go back to the old habit of keeping his parents in the dark while he ran out into the night, putting his life in danger to fight crime.

Pushing the door fully open, Mom stepped further into the bedroom. "How are you doing, Tim? Be honest with me," she asked.

"I'm doing fine," he answered, wondering where this was coming from.

"I've been noticing you've been spending a lot of time here, at home. I'm sorry, but I'm used to you staying out after school and coming home late," Mom explained. "I know this isn't Gotham, but can you blame me for expecting that?"

Ah, now he saw where she was coming from. Back in Gotham, he would be out with Dick and Barbara, planning their next moves and patrols as the Batclan. That, or he would hang out with them, two young adults who were much older than he was. Or he'd be at the shipping container doing some maintenance on his costume. Stuff like that. Then he'd go home, do homework, then sneak back out while leaving a cover story behind him.

Looks like he wasn't the only one thinking about where they had come from. Sometimes it was strange to think that Jump wasn't Gotham. A brand new place, also a city, and with so many different things about it. You were always looking for something that looked familiar and were disappointed when you didn't.

"I guess I'm still getting used to this place," he told her, giving a sigh. "It's not like our old home was. And I don't know a lot of the kids at school. I didn't grow up with them so it's been a little tough trying to get to know any of them."

"I'm sure you'll make some new friends, just give it some time," Mom reassured him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "I'm sure that someone will see you for the amazing person I know you are. Maybe you'll even find yourself a girlfriend."

"Mom!" he exclaimed, looking up at her wide-eyed.

"Tim, you're about that age where it's not unusual to be looking at girls," she chuckled at him. "I wouldn't mind if you brought someone over and introduced her to us. You...you are interested in girls, right?"

"I like girls," he muttered, looking away as his cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

"No need to be shy, Tim." Another chuckle and another squeeze of his shoulder. "Do you need something to eat? You look like you've been hitting the books a little hard today."

Nice segway there, Mom. He was going to take it. "A little. I've...I got a lot of stuff today and a lot of it is due tomorrow," the teen told his parental figure. "It came out of nowhere, like all the teachers are in on giving us as much homework to do as they can. It's crazy."

"I'll get you something, sit tight," Mom told him as she withdrew, leaving his room.

You know, if there was one thing about the vigilante life he hadn't missed, it was lying to his parents. Guess old habits really did die hard.

He really ought to think about going back to it, like Barbara had told him to. Everything before had been impulsive in a way, and damn it, he hated when his sense of right and wrong was violated. The need to do something, to fix something that he didn't know if it was broken or not was so overwhelming for him.

On top of all that, he hadn't come up with a new name for himself either.

Second thoughts sucked, especially when they came after you already committed yourself.

* * *

Guest: The controversial scene I referenced was indeed the one with Victor. There should be a few more twists here and there to keep you on your toes.


	5. Warrior Princess

Warrior Princess

It had taken a few days to find a mark, another couple to locate their home, and one more day figure out when they were and weren't home, but Cassie was ready for tonight. She had geared up, headed out, and waited until all was quiet before slipping in through a window. The place didn't have a security system on it, so no need to worry about any alarms going off.

You'd think the person who owned this joint would have it better secured. Oh well, this was going to be boring.

To be honest, now that she was in here, the burglar was disappointed in the spread. Nothing spoke to her, screaming to be stolen. In fact, a lot of stuff here was too tacky for her tastes. Great, this was a dud. Fantastic.

You know what? Just for that, she was going to take something anyway, because this place was a waste of her time. Okay, let's see, what was the least awful thing she could find?

After a few minutes of searching, she decided on some weird looking painting that was hung in plain view of the front door. The owner would see it was missing the second they entered and probably go into a panic. Served them right for having awful tastes.

The first hurdle came when she tried to fit the painting, frame and all, through the window she had snuck through. That didn't work out too well. Had to break the frame up and roll the artwork up so that it was easy to carry. And yeah, there was a mess left behind. So what?

After that, it was smooth sailing out of there. As she had in previous thefts, she used the rooftops as her means of escape. The cops never really searched them, and there were so many around that if you mistakenly dropped a clue behind you, the chances of it being discovered were practically zero.

All in all—

Something zipped through the air, a strong rope wrapped around her legs, and the next thing Cassie knew was she was falling forward. Unable to catch herself in time, she landed face and chest first on the asphalt, skidding against it before coming to a stop. A little dazed, she began pushing herself up, shaking her head to try and clear it.

"You know, it wasn't easy tracking you down."

That voice...it managed to clear up some of the confusion she was going through. Attempting to stand up, the masked girl was back on her knees as she realized that her legs were wrapped up with a bola. That explained the sensation of rope she felt earlier.

Rolling around, Cassie quickly looked around until her gaze zeroed in on the source of that voice. Oh, damn it, it was that guy from the other night. She'd recognize that pattern of red anywhere.

"You again?" she question, though her voice was very loud and may have been accusing. No, it was definitely accusing.

"What? Thought I was going to let you make a fool out of me?" the masked creep joked, his arms crossed over his chest. A light wind kicked up the cape he wore. Why was he wearing that thing? Did he think it made him look cool?

"You know, you're the last person I wanted to see again, Red," she retorted as her hands reached down to grasp the bola cables.

"Funny, you're the first for me," Red teased. Yeah, she was going to call him Red. Asshole and Bastard were already taken. But if she combined two of them...maybe later. Once she had beat his face to a bloody pulp. "So how do you want to do this? Come in quietly, no fuss? Or you struggle and I beat you down. Your choice."

Aw, he thought he was tough. "Did you hit your head last time? Obviously you don't remember how things went down last time." Tightening her grip on the bola, she summoned her strength and easily tore it.

"Lucky for me, I didn't do that," Red continued, seemingly oblivious. Heh, what an arrogant prick.

Whatever else he may or may not said, Cassie ignored as she removed the rest of the bola from her legs. In less than a second, she was launching herself at Red, swinging a fist simultaneously and eagerly waiting for the hard yet fragile giveaway of bone. Surprisingly, she met nothing but air.

Red expertly dodged, light on his feet as he took up a defensive stance, watching her. Kinda like last time. Well, if he wanted a repeat performance, fine by her. Let's see if he could make up for the disappointment that had been her burglary.

Lunging, she raced towards the prick with her hands balled into fists. In response, Red went all evasive on her, choosing to dodge her attacks instead of blocking and attacking back. Her fists only swung through the air and hit nothing, making her a little frustrated but not too much. She could handle some denial of satisfaction, especially the kind that involved shattering jawbones.

However, if Red thought that all she could do was punch, the high kick that nearly clipped his head said otherwise. Now that got him really moving, trying to put some distance between the two of them. Heh, like she would let him.

Upping the pace, she attacked with vigor, swinging and kicking away without abandon. The costumed loser, on the other hand, always seemed to duck and jerk out of the way each and every time. In about ten minutes of one-sided fighting, they had circled around the rooftop they were on twice. If you thought she was beginning to tire out, you'd be wrong. Cassie always had a large amount of stamina. No idea where it came from, but she didn't complain.

What was she was complaining about was that Red wouldn't fight back. Not in the traditional sense. He had yet to throw a punch or go on the attack, though she could see a light sheen of sweat appear on the skin that could be seen. He was going to tire out long before she did.

But she wasn't patient enough to let that happen.

Feinting a punch, she ducked and crouched down on her legs, swinging one to trip the prick. Falling back, Red impressively threw out and landed on his hands, pushing them down then up so that he flipped back on his feet. Cassie narrowed her eyes as she picked up the signs of surprise in his body language. The surprise seemed to be focused more on the maneuver he had performed and less on her attempt to trip him.

Hmm, maybe Red wasn't as confident in his abilities as he made himself out to be.

Since punching was getting a bit boring, Cassie decided to take a go at solely kicking. She started off with a high kick aimed for the chest. Predictably, Red backed away from it. Seriously, was that all he was going to do? She continued swiping with her feet, switching between the two so that she could press the attack.

Something she noticed was that Red had a tendency to try to move either left or right when he dodged. Adjusting how she kicked, she forced him to move backwards instead of to the side. If he was going to let his prickish nature keep him from fighting, then she would refuse him the chance to move around as much as he wanted. In almost no time, she had him backed to the edge of the rooftop and nowhere to go.

With a smirk, she lashed out once more with a leg. Surprisingly, Red finally decided to switch things up. By that, she meant he brought up that cape of his to block. Seemed completely stupid to her for him to do that, at least she thought that until her foot smacked against it and the cape did not give against her might. Red gave a grunt, but that went unnoticed as Cassie found herself almost tripping backwards.

What the? What happened there?

Before she could get any answers, Red was throwing something at her. Bringing up an arm, she knocked it away from her, only for the whirling thing to blow up a foot away. Once again, her sleeve was ripped up and the gauntlet she wore under it was exposed.

Seriously, how many shirts was she going to go through with this asshole?

Hold on, where did he go?

Spinning around, she found herself being the one to duck as a fist almost decked her. She almost bent over backwards as a second fist sliced through the air. Then a foot hooked just under her knee and pulled. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back, staring up at the starry sky.

Growling, she shoved herself back up and glared at the red-and-black-and-yellow (how many colors was he using?) colored prick. Oh, and he was smirking now. This was becoming personal.

With unreal speed, she had closed whatever distance he had put between them, alternating between punches and kicks, wanting, no, needing to hit him and hit him hard. Anything to put a look of pain on that young but handsome face that was annoying her now. Wait, handsome? Oh hell no.

With a snarl, she threw what should have been a powerful punch, only it too was dodged by the costumed lame-o. The air conditioning unit that had been behind him had no such luck. Her fist crushed the top of it like it was aluminum foil, the whirling blades inside of it crumpled against her limb, and her other sleeve ended up behind torn up to, revealing her other gauntlet.

Jerking her arm out of the destroyed unit, pieces of machinery flying about, Cassie angrily searched for (again!) and spotted the masked Zorro bastard.

"Ever heard of 'break it you buy it'?" the jerk quipped.

He was asking for it.

As Red was extending an arm to throw something else at her, Cassie figured that since he wasn't going to have a real fight with her, she would have to force it. Slipping a hand to her lower back, she pulled out a glowing, golden rope and whipped it out. Streaking through the air, it easily wrapped around his arm and tightened at the command of her will.

Pulling it sharply, she threw him off his stance. Bending her knees, she launched herself at him, batting aside the projectile he had thrown a second before and ignoring the small explosion it caused. All that happened behind her and was of no importance. What was was tackling this asshole and bringing him to the ground.

The tackling part went all fine, but the ground part was left wanting. She had used too much force and carried the both of them off the building. Now they were falling, wind buffeting all around them. Fine then, she'd accept making him a bloody stain on the street. That would show him.

And then they were turning—no, spinning around?

Instead of air rushing past her face, it was hitting her back. Then a wall of cement decided it wanted to make friends with her too and her vision was clouded with debris and dust.

* * *

Pieces of wall and plaster slipped off Tim's back as he pushed himself up. Smashing through a wall had not been a part of his plan when he had spun the thief and himself around so that his opponent bore the brunt of the building.

As he took in his surroundings, he grimaced as he realized they had crashed through not one but two walls. The first was the outside of the building and the second was one of the building's inner walls. Rubble littered the area between the two holes, some of it piling up in a big heap of processed rock. This was quite a mess, wasn't it? Hadn't intended to do that.

How fast had that asshole been moving when he tackled him? How much force was needed to do that? A whole bunch and more, telling by how they had gone through not one but two walls. And one of them was one of the outer walls!

There was a lot this thief was hiding. What else was he capable of?

Also, where was he? All Tim could see was...hold on a second.

Some of the rubble was shifting; something was under it. It didn't take a genius to guess what. Alright, any second now, this tough ass was going to show up and the teen vigilante needed a plan.

Quickly scanning around, he found what looked like very cushy chairs, small tray-like tables accompanying each and every one. Most were lined against a wall, each spaced the same amount of distance from one another. The floors were tiled and based on the squeaking his boots made against them, they were recently mopped. Whatever this place was, it gave the sense that it was sterile and clean, like a hospital of sorts. Except it wasn't one.

Pausing, Tim let his gaze slowly move towards a very large refrigeration unit. He had no idea what was in it, but figured that it wasn't a good thing that it was wide open. Though it wasn't saying a lot, the city lights from outside the building allowed enough light in that he could see two individuals in front of the open unit.

It was kinda hard to make out any details about them. The most he could see was that their clothes were scruffy-looking, if not worn in. The taller one had a thin hood over their head, the brim of a baseball cap sticking out from it. It was hard to tell anything else since the jacket they wore was somewhat baggy, easily hiding the body build. As for the shorter one, shoulder length hair was visible, and if Tim had to guess, the person was most likely a blonde. Their clothing fit them better than their buddy, so it was easy to see their thin build.

However, that wasn't really captured the vigilante's attention on them. That was reserved for the floating platform that was between the two of them. A large pile of packets were placed on top of it, though what the packets were or had inside of them could not be determined right now. Obviously, they came from the big fridge behind them.

He found himself in a stare off with the two of them, uncertain what he needed to do. He...he had no words for this. After crashing through two walls and seeing this sight, he couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Then the rubble behind him burst apart as the thief reminded him that he was still here. Whipping his head around, Tim's eyes widened as he caught sight of something he had not anticipated.

A tattered ski mask was the only real clue that this thief was the same thief he had only just duked it out with earlier. Almost luscious blonde hair spilled out and about, draping around muscular shoulders. A semi-spherical plate capped the right shoulder, bare arms trailing down to very familiar gauntlets. A golden bracelet wrapped around the upper left arm, gleaming from the dim lighting.

A red fabric snugly hugged around a lithe torso, leading downward and past the brim of her pants. What wonders were down there could only be imagined. What wasn't imagined were the, um, the shapely, um, the... _nice_ assets that the red fabric stopped at.

Then it hit him. Holy crap, this whole time he had been fighting a _girl_? No way. No freaking way.

As she pulled off what remained of her mask and sneered at it, she tossed it aside and leveled her gaze on him. Wow, those were some intense eyes she had. Too bad he wasn't closer to her. You know, to...see the color of the eyes? Because that's what a guy like him wanted to know. Nothing to do with how fit she looked. Goddamn.

A sharp ripping sound from far behind him, followed by a loud rumbling sound interrupted Tim's thoughts. And for better or worse, it had him looking over his shoulder.

Now, if his eyes had widened at the sight of the thief's identity, they were almost bulging out of their sockets now and not for a good reason. What reason might you ask? Well, would you consider a charging rhino storming its way through a counter and right at you a good thing?

Yeah, he didn't think so either. His fight or flight mode engaged and chose flight, his body moving on its own accord to _get the fuck out of the way_ before his mind could catch up with all this. His body turned so as to make him a smaller target, his eyes following the rhino as it passed him. The masked teen could see the muscles under the thick hide moving with each running step it took.

Then it was past him, and continuing its charge. But why wasn't it stopping? Oh wait, the thief! The very...hot-looking thief in the very...distracting outfit was just over there, and the rhino's horn was aimed right for her. Oh crap, oh crap!

She was going to be gored!

Tim wasn't proud to say it, but he was paralyzed into inaction, unsure of what he should do. This wasn't something that they taught you about in vigilante school, like how to stop a charging rhino. Did he have _anything_ on him that could do the trick? His ever so helpful brain couldn't come up with anything, and like what happened when you saw a trainwreck, he could not look away from this.

This armored girl, who until recently he thought had been a guy, was standing there, facing this huge, horned monster as it charged at her. Ridiculously, she raised her arms up, as if preparing to grab it. What the hell was she thinking?! Get out of the fucking way!

He might have yelled that last part.

Then, impossibly, the rhino came to an abrupt stop as the girl did exactly what her body language hinted at. With one hand on the horn, and the other curling under the rhino's chin, the female thief was only pushed back a few feet, her feet digging into the floor. Pieces of tile and concrete piled up around her legs, but when all was said and done, that rhino was straining against the girl's impossible strength.

She didn't even look like she was putting that much effort into it!

Wait. Did that mean...was _this_ what he had been fighting this whole time?!

As if this couldn't get any weirder, it did. The rhino, like the girl, did the impossible, and began to grow, bigger and bigger until it was replaced by...an elephant? What? Was he losing his mind now? What the hell was going on?

While Tim was trying to wrap his mind around this latest development, everything else was continuing as if this was all normal. Instead of trying to use its greater bulk against its smaller opponent, the elephant wrapped its truck around the armored girl's waist and lifted her up. Spinning around, the large creature slammed its victim into a wall, dragged her through the surface, and threw her directly at the teen vigilante once it had completed its 180 degree turn.

Preservation instinct jumpstarted his body into action, making him duck under the flying body. He heard a loud crash behind him, a very good sign that the girl had hit and probably broken through something. As much as he wanted to look, he had to keep his eyes on the elephant which trumpeted its trunk as it began to charge at him.

The floor beneath his feet trembled with the force of each step the animal took. With his legs bent, Tim kept a watchful eye on the behemoth, leaping and rolling out of the way at the last second. The elephant skidded its feet against the tiled floor, trying and failing to stop itself as it crashed through a counter and collided with a wall.

Unsure if it was possible for him to fight this monster, Tim pulled a couple of his throwing projectiles, readying himself to the next charge. As it jerked itself away from the wall, the elephant turned to face the vigilante, giving a snort at him as it readied itself. The masked teen could only wonder at this point if what he was doing was really brave or extremely suicidal.

His inner pessimist was screaming at him that it was the latter.

The elephant was suddenly jostled, the armored girl making a return to the fight. With plaster staining her front, she pulled back and—okay, he was not going to use the word impossibly here because he had been using too much recently—threw the elephant halfway across the room. The large-bodied mammal tore through the ceiling, creating a trench in it as it landed on the floor with a loud boom.

Jumping, the girl cocked a fist back as she zoomed through the air, her intentions easily identifiable. At the last second, the elephant picked its head up, spotted its attacker then...vanished? The girl already swung her fist and so ended up ramming it into the floor, shattered the surface as tile flew everywhere.

Snarling, the female thief quickly looked around, trying to find where this elephant had gone and was failing much to her visible frustration.

The next thing Tim knew, and right now reality was really starting to look questionable, a tail—a kangaroo tail—smacked the armored blonde from behind, sending her forwards and sliding against the floor until she came to a stop a few feet from the vigilante. As she lifted her head, the female fighter shoved herself up and inexplicably reach out to grab the disc that fixed itself on the teen male's chest.

"Are you going to stand there like a moron," she growled as she pulled him closer to her, "or are you going to do something helpful?" He was getting a real good like into a pair of fierce-looking blue eyes, and to say he was almost hypnotized by them was an understatement.

Doing something helpful was looking good right about now.

Looking over her shoulder, he commented lamely, "There's a gorilla behind you."

Indeed there was. The kangaroo was gone but in its place was a massive gorilla, the hairy creature breathing deeply as it approached them.

"Thanks," the girl holding him quipped as she released him, pulling out a gold, glowing rope from somewhere. As the gorilla gave a roar and threw a massive, leathery fist at the two of them, the girl was spinning and ducking around the blow, slipping a loop of the glowing rope around the primate's arm.

Continuing with her momentum, she slid behind the ape and pulled back on the rope, bringing one thick gorilla arm behind a massive gorilla back. Kicking a knee straight into the primate's lower back, she tried to force it down. Seeing an opportunity to, quote unquote, help, Tim destabilized the thick legs on which the gorilla stood, particularly aiming for the knees.

And down it went, the blonde Amazon pinning down this hulk with a simple arm lock. She brought the restrained arm up to an uncomfortable position applying enough pressure to make sure this guy was uncomfortable.

Naturally, Tim had to be the one to tackle her off the ape, but there was a good reason for it! See, in all the ruckus, he had, um, forgotten that there was another person in this room. Appearance-wise, this other person didn't look like a threat. However, somehow this person had thrown a very large, spherical object at the thief the vigilante had been hunting down, and they had thrown it very fast.

Tackling her off was the only option to save her from being hit with a big...rock? The earthen projectile barely scraped by the teen as he went into a roll with his armored foe.

As they came to a stop, the girl who was now under him shoved him upwards and demanded, "What do you think you're—"

At that moment, Tim had felt a tremor beneath them, and it didn't feel natural. Not like someone really heavy and strong stomping on the ground or an earthquake, though that last one was a good way to describe it. Grabbing the blonde girl by her shoulders, he rolled them out of the way of a pillar of rock that burst through the floor where they had once laid.

Yeah, it might not have been the polite thing to interrupted her like he had, but he figured that saving her from harm would make up for that.

Then she was rolling him as another pillar of rock broke through the floor, and they kept taking turns, as pillar after pillar continually speared out from underneath tile. Danger senses were screaming when after one roll, a pillar did not show up. So they kept rolling as another large rock smashed down from above, sending dirt and dust everywhere.

By this point, Tim figured that both of them were really dizzy, and as the lovely-looking warrior princess shoved herself back onto her feet, he waited for some sign of the next attack.

Which, of course, did not happen. Wait, hold on.

From his place on his back, the teen male looked around for any sign of their two attackers. There was no sign of any animals, or a thin, short person either.

The armored thief was looking more and more frustrated as the seconds ticked by and there was no sign of anyone else in the building. "Where did they…? Did they ditch us?"

"Looks like it," he piped up, fully aware that she wasn't speaking to him.

She let him know that. "I wasn't asking you, twerp. What the hell was all that about?"

As he recalled what had happened immediately before all the fighting started, he voiced his theory aloud. "I think those guys were robbing this place. Then we crashed in and they attacked us. Now they're gone. I think that sums it up."

"Robbing? What the hell would two guys like that rob this place for?" the girl thief demanded. Pausing, she shook her head. "Never mind, not interested. You know, I really ought to kick your ass for getting me in this mess?"

"Kick my ass? But weren't you robbing someone else earlier?" Tim retorted as he sat up, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, you had to remind me of that too. What the hell did I drop it?" That last part was muttered, but Tim heard it easily.

"You know, with all the racket we made, I bet the cops are on their way now," he casually remarked. As if he was psychic or whatever, the growing glow of flashing red and blue lights made itself known. And there were the sirens.

"I do not have the time for this," the nameless girl grumbled as she shied away from the lights.

Meanwhile, Tim was snaking a hand towards his belt, he had a set of handcuffs on him that he had been planning to use on her, back when he thought she was a guy. Well, first he needed to knock her unconscious, then cuff her. Then he could leave her to the cops. Case closed.

That had been his intention until his thief decided to make for an exit. That exit not existing at that moment in time until she ran and smashed another hole in another wall and made her daring escape.

And now he was the only one here in this mess.

Scrambling to his feet and heading the same way the girl had, Tim swore to himself, "Fucking great."

* * *

It wasn't often that Victor found himself in a bus. At least, not recently at any rate. In the beginning, that was how he had left Detroit. However, buses costs money. He had run out of that a long time ago. Which was why he was primarily walking from place to place, as aimless as that was.

Rachel, on the other hand, did not have the kind of artificial stamina he did and refused to walk throughout the American West with no clear destination in mind. Victor was pleasantly surprised, maybe felt a little honored, that the smaller girl had gotten her hands on _two_ tickets instead of one.

Because at that time, they could have gone their own ways, split up, that whole thing. Since he hadn't had to pay for it, he had accepted it because free stuff.

It went without saying how she got a hold of those tickets. There were some things best left alone and when he had danced around the question, she had bluntly stated that he was better off in ignorance.

So an air conditioned ride to anywhere was theirs for the taking.

His smaller companion had placed herself next to the window, forcing the larger teen to get the aisle seat. He wasn't too comfortable with the position since his shoulders were wider than the chair was. He was taking up space in the aisle unintentionally and there was nothing he could do about it. Well, except switch seats but one look at Rachel and that was a no go.

Other than the hum of the bus's engine, it had been nothing but quiet. Oh yeah, there was also a baby on board, but other than that it was quiet. And there were the other passengers sometimes holding a conversation with one another or complaining or moving to the small bathroom in the back and complaining about having to get around him, but other than all that it was quiet.

You know, it was easier said that it was silent between himself and the cloaked girl beside him.

"So where's this tin can heading?" he asked finally, only a couple hours into their ride.

"What's it matter?" Rachel retorted in an almost deadpan tone of voice.

Victor shrugged his shoulders in acceptance of that answer. She was right; what did it matter if he knew where they were going? Neither had a place they wanted or needed to go. For the time being, they were merely sharing the pleasure of each other's company until the time came they parted ways.

He had a sneaking suspicion, though, that she liked his company. More than what she was willing to admit.

"What did the ticket say?" he asked a moment later. Sure, he could take a look at it himself, but he was feeling a bit lazy.

"I don't have the intention of arriving at the location," Rachel remarked. "I'll be getting off sometime before that. I'm not sure about you."

"Why before? Why not way after?" He felt that this was a legitimate question there.

"They check tickets."

Made sense.

"You're welcome to stay on as long as you want," the pale-skinned girl continued.

Again, Victor shrugged his shoulders, then did his best to move his left shoulder out of the aisle as someone tried to get around him.

Several minutes of silence passed between the two of them, but at least it wasn't the awkward kind.

Surprisingly, Rachel was the one to break this one. "You know, if you want to talk so badly, you can always tell me about what I want to know."

Which is what led to him having all these robot parts. Not going there right now.

"You could always do the same and tell me about you," he remarked back.

"You know as well as I do that isn't happening."

" _Quid pro quo_."

"I didn't have to get you a ticket."

"And I'll pay that back with getting you something. If information is what you want, information is what you have to pay." Okay, he liked that reply of his. Very smooth there, Victor, very smooth. Battle of the words and he had had some good ones.

"What could you do to pay me back for the tickets? Last I check, you don't have anything of value on you and I am not interested in your clothes."

Almost defensively, "I'll think of something."

"Right." He could hear the doubt in that tone.

"If there's one thing about me that hasn't changed, it's that I always pay back my debts," he told her, facing the back of the seat in front of him.

"Mmhmm, keep telling yourself that."

Okay, rude, but he wasn't going to call her out on that. He was too busy enjoying this lovely ride—hold on a sec, needed to move his shoulder again—and he wasn't going to spoil it too much with the back and forth.

As he shifted in his seat, seeking to get comfortable again, his eye spotted a sign on the side of the road. It was his human eye that did the spotting, so his mechanical one was not about to do a screenshot of it and save it into his endless memory.

Not that there was anything special about that particular sign. It was just one of those that listed out the names of cities and towns and how far away they were. He had only been able to catch the name of one of them.

Jump City 33

To stay on the bus or get off anywhere near there. A part of him thought to get off at the next stop, screw the big city, if that place was one. Throughout his travels, he had been to towns that had the word city in them, but those places were anything but cities. Towns mostly.

If it was a city, he might have a problem with that. Too many people and cameras, you know.

Eh, he had been sticking to Rachel's side this long. What could it hurt to stick with her a little longer? It wasn't like she was going to get off there too, right?

* * *

Guest: Of course. Why bothering introducing even the most minor of characters if you're not going to use them? Even if barely here, they always have some kind of effect on the story. Also, remember that Koriand'r is in survival mode and needs to be observant. One wrong step and it could be game over.


	6. The Offering of Gaia's Ichor

The Offering of Gaia's Ichor

A pair of footsteps echoed through the tunnel-like hallway. Two teens, a male and a female, trudged their way down it, both anxious for what laid at the end of this little journey. Reluctant was kind of an understatement, but it was the best word to use to describe both of them.

The female was the shorter of the pair, the only length she had on her taller companion was her shoulder length, blonde hair. Otherwise, she was thin as a beanpole, her body still struggling to cope with the horrors that were puberty. Let's just say for one week out of the month, she was in such a state of physical and psychological turmoil that it made demons better company.

Whose great idea was it to give her cramps and mood swings anyway? Somebody had messed up big time.

Her wardrobe consisted of baggy clothing and that was usually because no one ever thought to find something in her size. Despite "blossoming" into a young woman, she was thin even for her age. Kids' clothing sometimes were too big. In fact, she was wearing a kids' medium in pants, and those things still were slipping down her waist. At least the baggy light jacket she wore that was a couple sizes too large for her hid that fact quite well. She could use a new pair of shoes, though; there was a hole where her big toe was and it was getting bigger by the week.

A hum in the back of her mind kept her from forgetting about the goods the two of them had retrieved. It was kinda hard to forget when said goods were on a floating disc made entirely of earth, and that said disc was floating a couple feet above the ground. Her doing, obviously.

Sometimes, she wondered if it weren't some big cosmic joke that her name was Terra of all things. Terra. As in one of the Ancient Greek words for earth. Somebody had to be getting a laugh out of that.

Beside Terra, her taller male companion was fidgeting. Not like that was much different from usual. Though he was taller than her, Garfield here was younger than her by almost a year. Only in the last couple of months had he had a bit of a growth spurt, the marvels of puberty finally hitting him. Like her, he was as stringy as a whip, barely any muscle mass was on his thin frame.

Unlike her, he was nearly naked. That was usually the price he paid whenever he decided to use his special ability to shapeshift. Other than a tight pair of tighty-whities and a baseball cap he liked to wear, it was bare skin all around. Typically, he would be dressed in baggy clothes like her. Sure, they fit him a bit better, but they were still too big for him. At least in that aspect, they shared the same pain.

What they didn't share was skin color. Hers was a pale white, like she had been indoors for way too long without any kind of sunlight. Kinda summed her life up right there, unintentionally. Garfield, on the other hand, was green. That's right. Green. Not black or brown. Green. And that included his short hair and his eyes.

How that was possible, Terra didn't know.

The truly weird part was that whenever Garfield shapeshifted, he retained that same green color. She was tempted to think that his favorite color was green from the way he kept that color, but he claimed that his favorite color was blue. He always looked in her eyes when he said that, though.

Terra could understand the fidgeting. Despite all the packs they had managed to grab, it was a meager offering to give. That fact was compounded as the pair entered a large, cavernous room lit up by torches of all things. For some reason, the fires made this place look red, too red in her opinion. Not that anybody around here cared about her opinion.

"Stay calm, Gar," she muttered to the male beside her.

"Can't, they're going to tear us a new one," Garfield quipped back with an equally quiet voice.

"With all cause, acolytes."

The floating rock that held their bounty fell to the floor with a loud, echoing thump. The two of them shrank in on themselves, their shoulders bunching as that severe voice sliced through them like a blade. Looks like Garfield wasn't too far off the mark.

Slipping around them, garbed in red robes and a hood reminiscent of a Catholic nun, the woman known to the pair as Mother Mayhem gazed down at the teens with a critical eye. The robes flowed around her, make it seem like she was gliding around like some kind of malevolent entity and not a mere mortal like the rest of them. Only her dainty-looking hands and her face were visible at any time.

Personally, for Terra that was too much.

"You have been gone for some time. Where is your offering?" the Mother questioned as she came to a stop in front of them. A pale eye of indeterminate color flickered over at Garfield. "And where are your clothes, child?"

'Um, I lost them. And we have our offering!" Garfield was quick to answer. Gesturing wildly to the pile of packets that they had brought with them, "They're right there, see?"

The Mother did not look impressed. She did that gliding thing again, moving around the teens to inspect their haul. Picking one of the plastic packs up, she eyed it critically. "Answer me this. Why did you think that blood packets would be an acceptable offering?"

She wasn't even looking at the pair of adolescents, but they could feel the scrutiny anyway. "Well, um, we, um, we figured that a lot of blood was better than a little blood?" the green teen answered hesitantly.

"We thought that getting more than ten liters of...blood would be better than just settling for ten liters," Terra put out there.

"It's cold," Mother Mayhem stated.

"It was in a fridge," Garfield pointed out.

"And you think getting your hands on this will make up for your past failures?"

"It's...a start?" Fidgeting had been replaced with squirming. Attention from the Mother was not the kind of attention anybody wanted. Willingly.

"Acolytes, there is a reason we request _fresh_ blood. _This_ ," the packet was dropped back into the pile of blood packets contemptuously, "is not fresh. It is preserved. Whatever potency it has is lost."

"But...isn't killing a person for their blood against the law?" Garfield asked, his voice squeaky. Terra so wanted to stomp on his foot because one, where did he think that answer was a good one? Second, to get him not to dig the hole they were in any deeper.

"Does it look like I care about the laws of men, acolyte?"

He had been asking for that.

"Do I need to remind you of the debt you two owe?" Mother Mayhem stated more than asked. It was the beginning of a very familiar lecture. "That you could have been left to die to the elements, to continue to be neglected and abused by the animals that inhabit this world? That our generosity has provided you both with succor and shelter. You children, whom are but lambs before a slaughter."

Terra had heard this spiel enough times that she could zone out and not miss anything. She knew the cues she needed to answer when they came. It all basically amounted to "look at what we've done for you, now pay us back." The goodness of their hearts, sheesh. Sometimes, she wondered if the Mother didn't see the irony in some of what she said.

The older, robed woman accused the rest of the world as being blood-thirsty wolves, then asked two teens to go out and murder one of them. For blood, of course.

The sad thing was, Garfield took this all to heart. Each reprimand always brought out a flinch. The poor guy was trying his best. But when it came to doing the dirty deed and all, he got squeamish and chickened out. Every single time. As far as Terra knew, he had yet to kill anyone despite being more than able to do so.

Not that she had either. But this wasn't about her.

"...You both have been blessed with gifts. Marvelous yet burdensome gifts. Anyone else would see them as curses. But not us. Without us, your gifts would have condemned you a thousand times over. Without…"

Now the guilt trip part. That stuff worked for only so long. Then it lost its power. On her, at least. Garfield, always so sensitive Garfield, was still the one to get tripped up by it. Hmm, not a bad pun there.

"...It is why you owe us your lives. When you owe someone such a debt, there is no choice but to pay it back in return…"

Judging by that part, they were maybe a quarter of the way through this lecture. The next part was going to be about how their fellow acolytes hadn't had such problems gaining their offerings as they had. Why not follow their examples? Be more like them! Blah blah blah! Yeah, for Terra this was going in through one ear and out the other.

So what if they had been rescued by this church or whatever it was. So what if they gave them three hots and a cot? Terra was beyond caring about that. If they wanted to kick her out, then fine, she was okay with it. So long as no one tried to kill her, there would be no hard feelings.

"Now, now, now, Mother. I think we should be commending our budding acolytes instead of chastising them. Compared to their previous offerings, this is a vast improvement. Human blood and not a mindless beast's."

A smooth and regal voice broke through Terra's thoughts and ended the ranting lecture that the Mother was bearing down on them. Though it was deep, it was magnanimous in its quality, all encompassing and you couldn't not feel a warmth welling up within you when you heard it.

It also made a person feel more poetic than usual. At least for the blonde-haired teen it did.

"Brother!" Mother Mayhem gasped as she bowed her head.

"There's no need for such respect," the man behind them spoke, chuckling. "Gaze upon me like any other mortal, my Mother, my Acolytes. There is no need for such strife among us."

They all obeyed. All of them. The sight of the vestment-wearing brother was always so soothing. Dark reds flowed into blacks, a collar clasped around a pale neck, black cloth belt wrapped around the tall man's waist like a snake. A clasp held a small cape on broad shoulders, again, red in color. Like Mother Mayhem, these garments flowed around him too as he stepped towards the offering of blood packets.

The light of torchfire was a gentle glow against the matted white hair that collected on the top of the Brother's head. However, he was much younger than one with that hair coloring would imply. No signs of age marred his face. The only wrinkles that appeared were around as his mouth, smiling slightly as he plucked one of the packets up and examined it.

"Quality may be in question," the Brother remarked, "but it is more than made up for in quantity. I do believe we can forgive them, Mother. This can be used."

"My apologies, Brother Blood," Mayhem spoke.

"No need for apologies. Your dedication is all the gratitude I require," Blood replied. "And you two," he continued, turning to face the two teens, "this is a milestone for you. I would not have thought to choose this avenue for gathering. This is quite a haul you have brought me, and receive it I shall."

Terra's heart was hammering in her chest. The kindness, the gratitude, and more importantly, the acceptance. It felt as if all her needs had been met in the past few minutes, and with little to no effort made by the man to whom both Garfield and herself owed everything.

"Rest, my acolytes," Brother Blood invited. "Your night has been long, but know that your bounty has been received and accepted. You have my permission for a treat from the kitchens. Such ingenuity requires a reward."

The best dismissal they would receive all day. Terra nodded in agreement while raising a hand to take her male companion by the shoulder and lead him out. If she was enamored by the Brother, then poor sensitive Garfield was overwhelmed in fanboyism. Swooning was an understatement.

"Before you depart, answer me one thing," Blood stopped them momentarily. "Young Garfield, what happened to your clothes?"

Broken from their reverence, the teens shared a long-suffering look with one another.

* * *

When the two teenaged acolytes had been sent to their barracks and were out of sight, the man known as Brother Blood sneered at the meager prize they had offered.

Was this truly the best those two could do? Blood packets? You could hardly use those to fill a basin, much less a scrying pool. Yes, it had all come from willing donors, but it wasn't as fresh as it could be along with all the warmth and trauma of its shedding.

He also knew where they had gotten it all from.

"If it weren't for their abilities, I would have drained them by now for all the waste of resources I've poured into them," he commented mildly.

Mother Mayhem hmmed. "What is your will, Brother?"

"For the moment, nothing. It wouldn't do to alienate either of them. Not when they would better serve as pawns," Blood answered. "Sometimes, to attract a fly, you must use honey rather than vinegar."

"If I may be so bold, those children have not been paying off the investment we have placed into them. Not like the others have." Mayhem retained a blank look as she spoke. The lives of those young acolytes meant nothing to her.

"Very true, Mother. However, some investments do require more time than others, as much as it galls me to say." Blood snorted in contempt as he turned away from the packets. "Their powers are very valuable, and to simply throw them away would be more wasteful. Some more time should be given to have them give in to their baser urges, to give in to the thrill of the kill instead of the pleasure of the chase.

"But if they do not prove themselves worthy, there are other ways to gain their servitude. I prefer to keep their abilities intact; their personalities are expendable. Have someone bring those to the Sisters. Maybe they'll find some use for them."

The standard "as you wish" reply was given, but Blood had more important matters to attend to. His footsteps echoed loudly in expansive chamber, his intention to leave what amounted to a greeting room of sorts. His destination was a more private area of this cave system, one reserved for some very sensitive rituals and the like.

It was also the chamber where the Sisters did their best work in his opinion.

Within this chamber was the not politically correct pool of blood through which much of his divination and scrying took place. Not that he did that personally, that was what his seers, or Sister did for him. They were a trio of women, their faces painted white with varying patterns of red making sometimes simple, other times complicated symbology. From what could be seen of their eyes, most were cloudy, absent of pupils, while one of them had headgear that blocked off said eyes.

All of them wore the garments of their station, loose blouse-like tunics with shoulder guard and wrist brace attachments. A corset-esque design patterned the long-sleeved tunics down the cloth belted waists. Below were long skirts that had the same flowing features that the robes in this place tended to have

As he entered this particular chamber, he could see the trio of Sisters hard at work with adding last night's offerings, minus the blood packets, to their pool. Soft and muttered chants left their blood-red lips, their eyes closed and the new life essence was added to the old.

Coming to a stop before them, Blood waited politely for them to finish emptying the current jug they were. Then he dropped all pretense of class and integrity his position required to bluntly demand, "Alright ladies, give me something useful."

"Brother Blood," the trio of decorated women greeted as they turned to face him, placing down their instruments and bowing to their lord and master. He may have relinquished the dignity of his office, but he had kept all the authority of it.

"Let's get on with this. Have you made any headway into finding that key?" A little of his impatience leaked out.

The leader of the Sisters was a dark skinned woman, her hair an afro of all things, and a small diamond-shaped dot on her forehead. "The time is drawing near, Brother. In the coming days, our key will make itself known."

Blood's eyebrow twitched. "That was the same answer you gave to me yesterday, was it not?"

"As your moment of triumph approaches, all will become clearer. It is not something that can be rushed," the lead Sister stated.

Rudely, Blood rolled his eyes at the to-the-point explanation. "That's very convenient for you, but I do not like having to rely on some vague means of gaining power. I would like something of substance coming from you ladies and pretty soon. If I am not mistaken, the big day is coming and it's coming soon. I would prefer to have everything ready by then."

"All will become known when the time is appropriate and no sooner." No signs of nervousness or fear left those lovely gems that were lips. "The key shall always be in blood."

"If that is the best you can give me, as the very least tell me more about this Red. The power that it offers is real, correct?" While spoken as a request, it was anything but. An order, a demand for reassurance. Blood was not about to waste resources on this ritual if there was no payoff from it.

"Those who command the Red command life itself," came his intoned answer. All three had to speak that line, apparently. Not that it impressed him.

"You've told me that a thousand times already. Do you have anything new to add to that?" The robed man spoke in a mocking tone, his admittedly short patience already at its end. In fact, it had come to its end months ago. All he could offer was ridicule as the Sisters kept saying the same thing over and over again.

"There is an unforeseen obstacle," the Sister with long, wavy red hair said unexpectedly. It caused a frown to appear on Blood's face.

Well that was new.

"What obstacle?" he all but demanded. After months of being told that the path to the Red was clear, it was not a pleasure to hear that there might indeed be something in his way.

In response, the Sister turned back to their pool, their skirts not even ruffling from the movement. Within the pool itself, the red liquid began bubbling. A long string of blood began to rise straight up from the middle of the pool, growing thicker the higher it rose. It was almost as wide as your standard pillar when faces seemed to be carved into the liquid. In total, there were about three, no, wait, four of these faces.

Most had nothing obstructing them, though one had a mask on. The images of these individuals went down to their shoulders, each one of varying broadness. And of course, all of them were youthful. The only other thing they all had in common was that Blood had no idea who they were.

"Who are they?" he asked, an anger growing inside him as whoever these people were, they were potentially standing in his way.

"If left alone, they have the power to deny you your destiny," the redheaded Sister stated.

As if that wasn't reason enough to track them down. But how to find them?

"Already, they have interfered with us. Two have sought to deny us our offerings," the Sister continued as the pillar of blood shifted, the faces disappearing and replaced with the inside of a building. A fight was being played out, an example of this interference. Blood's eyes narrowed as he recognized the sight of a transforming Garfield and a familiar-looking pile of blood packets.

It seemed like those two acolytes had omitted some vital information.

"What do you suggest?" he asked the Sisters as he crossed his arms over his chest. He already had an idea of what he was going to do, but it didn't hurt to have the advice of a seer or three backing you.

It was the third Sister who had remained silent until now who answered him. The spines of the headgear she wore covering her eyes and the sides of her face fully, but not the ruby-painted lips. The blonde hair she possessed was held up by long metal sleeve, creating an odd pony-tail of sorts. Her words, though, were anything but odd.

"Release your Ravagers. Send them out on a hunt."

Blood had to admit, he was a bit surprised by that answer. He had been thinking about sending the Confessor or his intelligence officers to find whoever these people were. That the Sisters were recommending some of his bigger guns to handle the development spoke of the seriousness of it. Nothing was being left to chance.

"You know, that is the first time any of you have said anything I have liked since you first told me of the Red," Blood remarked. "If that is your recommendation, I shall give it its due consideration. Mother?"

Beside him, silent until this moment, Mayhem gave her verbal signal that she was listening and awaiting orders.

"Do as the Sisters say and prepare my Ravagers. All of them. They have a hunt and people to kill," Blood instructed. "Impart on them the seriousness of the situation. Oh, and make sure they are excused from offerings until this matter is dealt with, no matter how long it takes."

"Your words are my command, Brother Blood," Mayhem said.

* * *

Of all the places to crash into, it had been a blood bank.

It was the following day, and while one of his classes was in the computer lab for research on an upcoming essay assignment, Tim was spending his time investigating what had happened last night. Because of how strange it was, the reports of a break in at this blood bank had made it into the newspapers.

That led to the obvious question: who were those people and why were they robbing a bank for blood? It was bizarre. And that was saying something from a kid who came from Gotham.

All the news reports said that someone had blown a hole into the place and raided it for that day's blood donations. There was nothing on how much was stolen. There was a picture of the inside, and Tim winced at how torn up it looked. In his defense, most of that had been done by that girl thief and one of the other two blood thieves. Damn, he was running into people committing theft a bunch.

Whatever happened to good old muggers?

So. Two cases. A serial thief, and two blood thieves. How the hell was he going to find them? He had nothing on their identities, no clue to where they go when he wasn't getting into fights with them. Sheesh, it was only by luck he found the girl! Both times!

Pausing for a second, Tim did a quick search on the blood bank. It was a long shot, but there had to be a reason other than convenience that it was picked to be burgled. Okay, the place was one of a handful operated by the same nonprofit group. Guy in charge was called Sebastian Blood. How appropriate. So who was this guy?

Before he could start a search on him, he detected a disturbance in the force. More like, he spotted the teacher in the corner of his eye as she was making inquiries into what the person next to him was up to. The kind of inquiries where the teacher wanted to be sure you were doing what you were supposed to be doing, finding out what your topic was, and anything else related to the assignment.

He backtracked his progress a bit, and put in a search for blood banks because you know what, maybe he could combine his English assignment with his investigative one. It would kill two birds with one stone and no one would think twice about him looking up such an odd topic.

Minutes later, he was back to his old search, taking notes if only to give credence to his new cover story.

Where was he again? Oh yes, Sebastian Blood. Let's see who this guy was and what his reasons for running blood banks were. Other than, you know, having that kind of last name. All right, this what he found so far.

One standard humanitarian reputation. Nothing too out of the ordinary, though he had some reach in telecommunications and media. So he had some money but was spending it all on a nonprofit? That didn't fit your typical business tycoon.

Hold up, what was this about a church? Many of the search results he had gotten with this Blood guy had linked with some controversial faith thing. There was even a long winded name to it too: The Church of the Savior and Saint's Blood. One of those far out there Christian type faiths, though apparently it had something in common with another religious group known as Scientology.

As in there was a lot of media attention, not a lot of it good, and reports of strange practices. The usual stuff that went along with controversial religious matters. What really kept people's attention on it was the fact that some big time celebrities claimed to be members, just like Scientology.

So he had a guy who was coco for faith, operated some social services with a nonprofit, and was the victim of a burglary. This was getting really, really weird.

And he was getting in over his head. None of this was something he had experience with. Correction, not knowing who or where to find his perps, that part hadn't changed. It didn't stop him from feeling a little overwhelmed. As...as much as he didn't want to, he was finding out that he was having less and less of a choice here.

He needed to ask for help. He was going to have to ask it from Barbara.

She was better at this research stuff than he was. She could find information that he couldn't. Lord knows, she had the time to do that. Was she going to be happy about him asking her for more help after everything she had already done for him? That, Tim had the feeling, was a big no.

He was on the other side of the country and he was badgering her for all these things. If he was her, he would have had it up to here with him.

Well, maybe the bizarreness of the blood bank stuff would make her curious enough to check it out. It couldn't be worse than finding a dead body in an alley, right?

* * *

Cassie felt sore all over. And it had to hit her before she could make her token effort to get to school. That truant officer was going to have an aneurysm at this rate.

Not that the blonde cared about that asshole. Her academic interests were zilch to begin with. So she was going to lounge about today until she felt more like herself. Anyone else have a problem with that had their name written on her fist.

Like that guy who kept showing up. This was the second time she had run into him and he annoyed her so much that she wanted to bash his head in. She especially wanted to rip that little mask he had on his face off and see if it was anything like ripping off duct tape. Cassie bet it was and it would be very entertaining to hear him squeal like a girl.

With a long-suffering moan, the blonde girl sunk deeper into her couch cushions, her limbs splayed all about in a show of laziness. Being slammed and dragged through walls by an elephant on top of wrestling with a gorilla could really take it out of a person.

Speaking of which, whose bright idea had it been to let a whole zoo loose? How were those things in the building before anybody noticed? And then all the rocks breaking through the floor? Did anyone realize how close she had to get with the masked jerk to avoid all those? That he had basically saved her ass from getting any more harm than she already had?

Not that she couldn't take the hits. Cassie had found out awhile back how much stamina and endurance she had. To be honest, she did not know her own limits yet. What she did know was that she could take a lot of punishment.

That was all thanks to the armor she had. Hell, she still had one of her gauntlets on, too tired to take it off. Since it was right there and all, she admired the way how the dim lighting reflected off the shiny surface of the armor.

While it hadn't been the first thing she stole, not by a long shot, it was perhaps one of the best she had ever plucked. To make a long story short, she found some dig site at some ruins, thought there might be something interesting in there, went in, and found the armor. After that, things got freaky, in that there were some strange robed guys with wicked looking daggers, and they were looking for a human sacrifice.

In the interest of self-preservation, she put on the armor and fought her way out. Put on was a suggestive term, though, as when she touched the suit, it glowed and kinda put itself on her. By itself.

Magic, who knew it existed?

After that, she was back here and doing her thing. End of story.

Reflecting on the memories, Cassie blew air through her lips, letting them flop about. Despite all that drama and action at that dig site, her life did not become some overly dramatic suspense movie. No one came after her wanting either the armor or revenge. Nothing spooky occurred, no cops came snooping, no nothing happened. It was boring old life with some extra spice to it.

Figures.

She had to admit, since the costumed fairy guy showed up, things weren't too boring. He at least tried to put up a fight. Though, it was more like he dodged more than threw a punch, like said punches did much to her anyway. He turned what would have been a letdown of an evening and made it a clusterfuck of what the hell is going on.

Wait, was that a good thing or a bad thing? Hmm, whatever.

Had to give him props about smashing her through a building. Ballsy, and it showed he could think on his feet. She hadn't meant to throw them both off that building in the first place, and since she could take a lot more than he could, obviously, it made sense to spin them around.

But what happened afterwards? There was really no words to describe it. It frustrated her to know that it was like going through the Twilight Zone after that, like they had entered an alternate plain of sight and sound. Heh, maybe she could get fairy boy to find out for her, what since he did find her.

Still, one in her position didn't go looking for trouble. Not when trouble was always looking for her in the first place. There was a feeling she had they would meet again, and next time he would be going down.

Without mercy.


	7. Gathering Storms from Above and Below

Gathering Storms from Above and Below

The planet Karna was a tropical planet that possessed both the beauty and dangerousness that such an environment contained. With lush vegetation, fertile soil, and fathomless oceans, all of which enjoyed nearly endless exposure to sunlight made it a paradise to many intergalactic travelers. There were sights here that could not be found anywhere else in the Vega star system.

The planet was host to two dominant species, the first of which were the Karnan who resided in the northern continents. The second, who claimed the southern portions for their own were the Gordanians.

The continent of Gordane was the center of Gordanian civilization, their great cities and spaceports located along the northern coasts. In the capital, the slave ship that had traveled the far reaches of the Milky Way Galaxy arrived with one less slave than reported. As it docked and depressurized, a troop of Gordanian soldiers approached it, taking up positions at the docking gate.

The leader of this small group stood at attention with his scaly blue arms held behind his back. Golden, military-grade armor covered his torso in maneuverable plates and were decorated with half-spherical, red orbs that dotted around his head opening. Clad in a golden-colored helm complete with two protrusions that angled diagonally then bent vertically upwards, the stoic face of this commander peered through the facial breach.

Red eyes expressed no emotion, a large nose took in quiet breaths that were expelled loudly, and thick lips curved downwards in displeasure. He knew what to expect as the crew trickled out, all trying to shrink in on themselves. The report had reached this Gordanian long before the ship had.

The red eyes lit up upon spotting the ship's captain. "What happened to it? Where is it?"

His voice boomed throughout the port. However, no attention was directed towards him as Gordanian port workers scurried about to perform their duties. His voice was one no one wished to hear in that tone as it always spelled misfortune for whomever it was directed to.

And by misfortune, it meant death.

The captain of the space-faring vessel swallowed loudly. "Commander Trogaar, sir, I would like to formally apologize for—"

"I did not ask for apologies, Captain. I want to know what happened to my cargo," Trogaar interrupted, narrowing his eyes.

"The cargo...the cargo managed to escape its restraints, Commander," the Captain gulped. "My men did their best to recapture it, but it reached the escape vessels faster than anyone had anticipated."

"And where is it now?" the unhappy Gordanian commander growled, a portion of his lips raising to reveal very sharp teeth.

"We managed to damage—"

" _Where is it now_?"

There were no more delays allowed. No more excuses tolerated. An answer would be given and it would be the next thing said, no exception.

"The vessel entered the atmosphere of the planet we were passing," the Captain admitted, closing his eyes in resignation. "We were unable to retrieve it."

"Explain." Trogaar had withdrew a hand from behind his back, the large, brutish appendage reaching for the firearm at his side. It lingered just next to the weapon, promising its future usage in the immediate future.

"The planet is not one anyone is willing to enter. Not since the defeat of the Kalanorians has anyone dared try to enter it. The men have become superstitious of it; most ships stay far away in fear of it. Whatever force or entity or creature that resides on it and has the power to route the imperial forces of Kalanor is not to be dismissed."

There was the explanation that Trogaar had been looking for. So the ship's captain had chosen to enter that part of space if only because no one in their sane mind would. While he was a warrior who feared no foe or enemy placed before him, he was not one to ignore such a thing as the defeat of one such as Despero. Whatever could defeat the likes of that man could not be trifled with.

Yet, it was to this planet of fear that his promised cargo had escaped to. If it was still alive, there was no telling what state it was in. Weakened most likely as the captain would have been desperate enough not to allow its escaped vessel to enter the atmosphere. Damaging and retrieving it before gravity took hold would have been the most practical course of action.

So with a damaged vessel, it did enter the atmosphere. Perfect. Just perfect. So for the time being, his prize was beyond his reach. No, no, he would not allow that. He refused to admit defeat and cut his losses. That cargo was his property and he would be damned if he lost it.

Minor reparations would have to come first before he proceeded.

"Thank you for wasting my precious time, Captain," the commander stated, withdrawing his sidearm and firing a beam of hot light into the lower officer's head. The beam of concentrated energy continued until it struck the side of the ship, leaving a scorch mark in its wake.

As the ship's captain fell to the floor like the garbage he was, Trogaar was taking command over the remaining ship's crew.

"All of you are now under my command. We will be returning to that planet and we will be taking back my cargo," the Gordanian officer growled his commands. "If anyone interferes with that objective, he will be executed on the spot and his body thrown out the airlock. We leave immediately. Is that understood?"

All the men, both those behind him and the ship's crew, stood straighter, signifying that they understood his orders. Not that they had a choice to object in the first place. Good.

Taking a step forward, Trogaar stepped on the deceased captain's back and pressed down, crushing the bones and flesh beneath his foot. That trash was not worth his time and the port's janitorial services would deal with it. He had more important things to do anyway.

That Tamaranian was not escaping him, not now. Not ever.

* * *

"Did you two really think that was going to get your asses out of the fire?"

Two bodies tensed. It was easy to tell for Garfield as he had only been able to get a new pair of pants on, his torso still bare. It was a little fascinating to see what little muscle this little guy had freeze up as he heard that voice. Meanwhile, Terra could feel hers tighten both from irritation and a little concern.

"It worked better than you thought it would," she spoke out loud for the two of them, not bothering to face the confronting male behind her. She had more important things to do, like picking out a shirt to slip onto her green partner here. Not that the selection was great; all this looked like it came from the Salvation Army or a second rate donation center.

"All it did was buy you time. You know that either you're going to get with the program or it's you who's gonna shed blood," the male voice continued, almost jeering. It was also closer, meaning that the speaker had moved towards them.

"Brother Blood said it was all right," Garfield said defensively, almost baring his teeth. Terra noticed the green boy's upper canines were slightly longer that what was typically. Kinda made him cute, not that she would tell him that anytime soon.

"He took pity on you." She could feel the shrug in the other male's shoulders. "It's the same thing that made him take you freeloaders in in the first place."

"We don't have the energy for this, Warblade. Go do whatever it is you do when you're not bothering us," Terra said, continuing with her task of finding a suitable shirt.

"When I see people not pulling their weight, it is my concern, whether you have the energy for it or not. It's my responsibility to make sure all the Ravagers here do everything that's asked of them, and I take that very seriously," Warblade quipped back. A long, thin blade rested itself on her shoulder, its edge millimeters away from her neck.

A power play, a way for this guy to assert his dominance over others.

A growl seeped from Garfield's mouth, taking the bait for what it was: a provocation.

"Gar," she spoke warningly, giving the green-colored male a look. Now was not the time to pick a fight, not when they were on thin ice with Mother Mayhem. It could also be said what was new with that since that was a regular thing for the two of them.

"Yeah, _Garfield_ , is something bothering you?" Warblade taunted. "Is my being so close to your girl pissing you off? Is there something you would like to do about it?"

"Don't pick fights, you're suppose to be setting an example for us, aren't you?" Terra stated more than asked.

"But I am. See, anybody who's on my team needs to be able to fight for what they want. I know you two don't like it when I'm around, and if you want to change that, you're going to have to earn it."

Which meant pick a fight with me and see how much better I am than you. There was no question who the superior fighter here was, and unfortunately it was Warblade. Some months before, the older male had provoked a fight with Garfield, and then easily put him down. It didn't matter what animal her partner turned into, nothing was effective against that kind of skill and those very sharp blades.

Like any hot blooded guy, Garfield could not learn his lesson. That wasn't the first fight he picked, but if Terra had her way, today was not going to be another. Not because she liked the guy, but because out of all the ones around, he was the one she tolerated the most. The fact that he acted like a lovesick puppy around her most of the time had nothing to do with it.

The lovesick puppy bit was just as literally as you thought it was.

"I hardly think this is the time or place for this crap," the blonde girl said, a light yellow glow appearing in her eyes. She could feel the earth all around her, could feel its eagerness to respond to her, to take whatever form she wished it to take, and to move wherever she wanted it to go. Seismic activity from thousands of miles away were detected in her mind, the very act of plate tectonics a reality to her and not merely a theory.

And all of it was to be focused on a very small area where a certain person was standing.

"I don't know, I think _Garfield_ here thinks it is." Now she could feel the smirk on the taller male's lips.

"Gar," she said again warningly. The severity in her voice must have reach him since green eyes made contact with her blue. She did her best to convey to him not to do anything stupid, like fall for Warblade's taunts.

Too bad that more often than not, Garfield tended to misread things. A lot.

"Now, now, none of that Twilight crap here. We're above all that here."

"Just like we're above picking fights, right?" Terra turned her head to look their superior only in rank in the eye.

It was almost unfair how handsome this guy was. Skin darkened from being outside too much, high cheekbones, and a pair of smug blueish-green eyes that always held arrogance in them could make just about any girl swoon for him. All of those features were under a shaved head, a sign of Warblade's acceptance to Brother Blood's ranks.

That was really the only parts visible of him. The rest of him was always suited up. An unfamiliar metal alloy covered the male's torso, lines on it mimicking the musculature of a human body. The color, oddly enough, was of the same hue of his eyes. A combination of black and silver wrapped around the lower arms, appearing as gloves. The fingers were where the name Warblade came from as each one, minus the thumbs, were very long blades, each wicked looking in their curvature.

Though always suited, it didn't take away from the litheness of his body. It was so unfair. How could one be so bulky and still look like a pole?

"Who said anything about picking a fight?" The voice came out as a jest, but anyone with half a brain could detect the steel within.

On second thought, Garfield could still be in trouble.

"Whatever you want, we're not interested," Garfield snarled, speaking up for the first time.

"I don't like that tone of yours." Said lightheartedly, but anyone with a survival instinct would know to be careful.

"And what kind of tone would you like?" demanded the green boy.

Honestly, what happened next was predictable. Warblade was gone from Terra's side, but now he was in front of Garfield, the dark-clad hand grabbing him by chin. The older male knew what he was doing; only three of his blade fingers were anywhere near Gar's face; the fourth was pressed against a too thin neck.

"A little more respect from you, pipsqueak," Warblade jeered. When his green-colored victim tensed up, he added, "Go on, transform. Maybe then you'll be a challenge. That is, if I don't slice open that throat of yours. Last I checked, even animals die if you do that."

"I think you've made your point," Terra stated, doing her best to rein herself in. A part of her wanted to _crush_ this asshole, but another knew that this was not the time or place. Well, place was debatable. So long as Warblade was held in high favor, there was nothing they could do that wouldn't have some unbearable consequence put on them.

That the room trembled a bit was a sign that she didn't have quite the control she wanted to have.

As luck would have it, one of the robed sisters who worked under Mother Mayhem directly arrived, unknowingly saving someone. Who that was precisely was not certain.

"The Mother requests your presence, Ravager. She said it was urgent."

Looking over his shoulder at the interloper, the taller, older male smirked and released Garfield. "Saved once again, kiddies. Better watch your tongue, my green friend, or we'll see if you bleed green too. Heh, I doubt even Brother Blood would accept it as an offering."

Finally, the ass left, the sister in tow, leaving the pair to their lonesome.

"Garfield, you know better than to pick a fight with that guy," Terra said at last, turning on the green boy.

"I know, but he gets under my skin," Garfield whined in reply. "It's like he thinks he's better than everybody. It wouldn't be so bad if…"

When he trailed off, she had to prompt him with a, "If?"

"If he wasn't so cool doing it!" the green-skinned teen finished, sulking. "Did you see how fast he moved? No, you probably didn't, but he was grabbing me before I knew he was there! And then he dared me to change, like he wasn't scared of what I might become! I could've been a bear or a tiger or maybe a whale. I've been wanting to do a whale lately."

Yeah. She knew. When they weren't trying to keep themselves in everybody's good graces, and failing, or when he wasn't telling her how cool she was, or when they weren't having deep conversations, it was about him wanting to see what it would be like to be a whale. It was like the whole cat phase he had a while back. And the koala phase. And the elephant phase. And the, of all things, opossum phase.

Opossums were creepy as hell.

Now it was all about whales. More attention was on humpback whales, though every once in awhile there were thoughts about orcas and narwhals. Terra thought it might be a size thing, like the elephant. He wanted to be big, really big, and maybe crush a few certain people. It was like he was trying to prove himself.

Typical male, but unlike others, Garfield was one she was feeling a little attached to. Compared to everyone else, he was decent company. When he wasn't in a phase.

"Gar," she stated, using the little nickname she had come to use when it was no one but them. She placed her hands on his cheeks, trying to get him to focus on her and her alone. "Look at me. You need to keep your head here. One of these days, someone will take it off if you're not careful. It's either going to be Mommy Mayhem or Warblade or someone wanting to suck up to Brother. We need to keep our heads down until we can get out of here."

Confusion painted the green boy's face. "Why do you want to leave? Didn't they take us both in when no one else would? Don't you want to pay them back for that?"

"I don't like it here. Everybody's always watching what you do, hoping to score points with someone else," Terra told him frankly. "And you know how I don't like being cooped up in one place. I want to do more than stick around in this place. I want...I want to see everything. To experience it all. I was kinda hoping you'd join me, if only for a little while. Besides, there's all sorts of animals out there. Ones I don't think you've ever seen before. Wouldn't it be neat to see them and see if you could turn into them?"

Okay, that last part might have been a little manipulative. Garfield was in total awe of his shapeshifting abilities, and more importantly, he was always wanting to become something else, no matter what it was. It was always about trying something new with him, so the possibility that there were more animals out there than he knew about was a huge temptation for him.

She could see the conflict in his eyes already.

That was another thing about him; he was loyal to a fault. Once you had it, it was yours for life.

"Think about it, Gar. You and me, no one to tell us what to do or where to get offerings," she added.

"But...but we have to pay them back," Gar said, his inner struggle fully audible. "We owe them."

"Just promise me you'll think about it," Terra insisted it. "Sooner or later, we'll get a chance to leave, and I'm taking it. I want you to take it with me when that time comes. It's you and me against the world.

"And no one gives a crap about us."

* * *

The Red Marauder? Nah, that sounded more like some overly educated street thug.

X-Man? You know, because the straps that kept his cape from falling off formed an X over his chest? Now that he thought about it, that was a stupid name.

The Teen Titan! Some merit there but needed a lot more work. They had just covered the chapter on Ancient Greece and some of the mythology came up.

Wait, what about...Robin Boy! No, no, he had already used Robin and that one was thrown out the window back when he was in Gotham. Plus, corny as hell if only because there were no bird-like features in his costume that would pull off the Robin part. Not that the old costume did either.

Tim was back home, waiting on the call from Barbara, and while he was doing that, he was thinking of some new name for his crime-fighting alter ego. No luck so far, though he was leaning towards the Titan one. Again, that one needed some work.

Anyway, it was getting about the time when his former Batclan partner would call him up with all the juicy info he wanted on Sebastian Blood and his church. He didn't want to be too caught up in his homework, because once interrupted, he'd never get back to it until it was real late. So, the name conundrum.

He wanted to give something back to her for everything she had done for him. Barbara had been the one to recommend coming up with a new name, and he didn't want to disappoint.

Back when he first called himself Robin, he had been inspired. Years later, he couldn't remember where he had come up with it. That was only brought up because if he could get back to that state of mind, maybe he would give him another good name.

Gluteus Maximus? Why would he name himself after an ass? That also sounded like a very bad, bad guy name. Hell, if he wanted to be a bad guy, he could come up with a better name than that.

Um...Fairy Lad? Now you were letting that thief get into your head. That was a straight up no there.

Hey, what about—

A ding from his computer interrupted his crucial mission for a name. Blinking his eyes dumbly, Tim sat up straight in his seat, opening up the message alert that had appeared on the monitor. Ah ha, Barbara was contacting him. Okay, time to pull out the earpiece and hear what she had to say.

"This is your man on the west coast. What did you find?" he said cheekily as he relaxed back in his seat, his hands pillowing his head.

" _Cute, Tim. Trust me when I say this, you owe me big. It's one thing about the suit and all the upgrades you wanted on it. This, this is time out of my life I can never get back. I hope you really appreciate this."_

Oh wow, sounded like this one had taken a bit out of her. Best to be careful lest the computer hacker demand her pound of flesh right here and now. "How bad is it?"

" _Finding the info was the easy part. Listening to the sermons was the closest thing to torture I've had the bad luck to experience. And I went through physical therapy. All those hours I could have been...never mind. You will be paying me back for this."_

"Just say the word," he hastily agreed. "So what did you find out?"

" _Your guy Blood is one of those guys who went into nonprofits as a business. Meaning, he lets people donate money to him, paid lip service to the promises he made, and paid himself a huge salary all so he could legitimately say that his company didn't make a profit. And it's legal. His nonprofit pretty much has a chain of blood banks up and down the Californian coast._

" _All this is something people don't pay attention to. Like A-list actors, everyone looks at their religion. That's where things get kooky. That church he's involved with is big on the blood of Christ bit in that one ritual where you're suppose to symbolically eat and drink the body of Christ. There's been accusations that it's a cult, that there's been brainwashing, the usual stuff. He's even gone on TV and defended it._

" _And yes, he's done a few sermons. They're all on YouTube, oddly enough. I spent I don't know how long watching those damn things, but right now I want to gorge myself on some ice cream and wallow in my sin for a day."_

Okay, it was all making sense right now. "Anything on people robbing any of his banks?"

" _Other than the one you told me about. No. I did find out that he had insurance, and he's looking at a nice payout. As far as I could find, nothing sketchy about it. The locals are stumped on it."_

Not what he wanted to hear. Then again, he had had no proof that this guy had anything to do with the burglary. Sure, he was out there, but that meant shit when establishing guilt, and so far he didn't have anything.

So who were those two?

"Thanks for checking this guy out for me, Barbara. You were a big help," he said. Even if the information she found for him didn't help him advance his investigation, at least it let him go in a different direction. Hopefully, it was the correct one.

" _Yeah, well, next time we chat, you'll know what it's about."_ Tim couldn't tell if she was joking or not and found that worrying. _"Now, there's something else I needed to talk to you about, and no, it has nothing to do with you paying me back."_

Oh? What was this? And why couldn't it go to paying back his debts?

"Shoot."

" _I just got word from a credible source. Batman's gone."_

Well, talk about a punch to the gut right there. He had not been expecting that. No, wait, maybe he had misheard her there. "Come again?" he asked, his voice cracking.

" _Supposedly, he's on an assignment with the Justice League, but even the League has been real quiet about it. I did some digging, and found that there was this bombing. Batman was in the middle of it. Ever since, there's been no sign of him. There's...Dick and I...well, we've been considering the possibility that...that he might be…"_

"Don't you finish that!" Tim cut in heatedly. "He's not… There's no way. He's the Batman. He's survived worse."

" _We're taking a wait and see approach, Tim, but we have to be realistic. If there's a chance he might have been...killed, we have to consider it. More importantly, we can't let anybody else know of this. We've only just managed to fix up Gotham and we don't need to be giving anybody the wrong ideas. For all anybody knows, Batman's still patrolling the streets and terrorizing the criminal underworld. I wanted to give you the heads up that something's up and if you find anything that might be involved, you contact me immediately."_

Tim clenched his jaw shut, increasing the pressure when the word "killed" passed through the radio receiver. That was unthinkable and defeatist. He had no idea of what went down, but he was not about give up hope yet.

There was some miscommunication and someone jumping to conclusions, just like he had about Blood. Time would tell and reveal the truth. They'll all have worried for nothing and things would go back to the way they were.

"You bet," is what he said.

Ending the communication there, the dark-haired teen hunched over in his seat, thinking about all these new developments. Then he began typing on his computer, doing a search for the bombing Barbara had mentioned, wanting, no, needing to know what had happened.

Knowing was better than not knowing. And it wasn't like his search for that female thief and those two blood burglars were going to be solved anytime soon.

They could wait a little longer.

* * *

"So. What made you want to stop off in the big city?"

"A whim."

"A whim, huh?"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

While Victor didn't say it, the fact that he considered himself an African American who happened to be in a place with a large police force and was sitting on a park bench in broad daylight wearing a hoodie of all things called for a little concern. He highly doubted that the cops here didn't do a little racial profiling themselves, and the last thing he wanted to do was call any kind of attention to himself.

Plus, there were all those CCTV cameras around. Anybody with a sharp eye and knowledge of what they were looking for…

"Just a little concern. This is a very highly populated place, don't you think?"

"And what better way to lose yourself than in a crowd?" Rachel quipped back, dismissing his worry.

"Are you trying to lose someone?" he challenged.

"Maybe I am. I'm not sure yet, but I think you are as well."

"Well, you're doing a heck of a job in a park with very little people in it. No one's going to find you here. Nope." He chose to ignore that last part.

"Perhaps I should be the one asking if you have a problem with crowds. You've been on edge since we got off the bus. The same bus you could have stayed on," Rachel pointed out.

"Wanted to stretch my legs," Victor replied easily, stretching said limbs out and away from the bench.

The cloaked girl eyed them. "I wasn't aware you had any muscles in that region."

"As far as you know." He flashed her a teasing grin.

Rachel gave a sigh. "You know, you don't have to stick to my side anymore. You can go your own way."

"I've thought about it," the larger male replied. "But I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I left you here, alone, in the park. Don't you know? Grown men who get stuck in the park when it's dark don't walk out of it alive."

"Trust me, whatever it is that kills grown men in parks has nothing on me," the girl deadpanned. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you were trying to find reasons to stick around."

"Where would you ever come up with an idea like that?" Victor crossed one leg over the other, placing his arms on the bench's back.

"Seriously, Victor, I don't foresee the two of us being buddy buddy, traveling the world together because we're so close platonically. It's highly doubtful, even if either of us had a destination in mind, that we'd both be going to the same place. It's been...amusing, and while I will miss your absence for the first five minutes, I think it's best we part ways before you get attached." Not once did Rachel raise her voice, her tone matter of fact as she spoke.

Victor said nothing, because really, what was there to say? There was a good chance she was right and only for the time being had their paths crossed. He had to admit that the sooner he left Jump, the better he would feel. What this girl intended to do here was none of his business.

Still…

"Are you sure it'll only be five minutes?"

He didn't need to look to know that his smaller companion was looking at him from the corner of her eye. "Maybe six," she said after a moment. "But not seven. Of that you have my word."

"Well, if this is to be it, I'll just waste a little time here before heading out. It's not like I have anywhere I need to be. You mind or do you have somewhere to be?" This time, he really did look at her to see how she would answer.

"I'm of the same circumstances. Stay as long as you want, but when I leave, it will be alone," Rachel answered.

"Yep, it was nice while it lasted," Victor said, tilting his head back and looking up into the sky. The sun was already heading towards the horizons, blue sky slowly turning to pink as dusk approached. He made absolutely no move to go anywhere after such a goodbye.

"Nice things never last," Rachel agreed, also not making any moves herself.

They were just two travelers about to go different ways. They'd at least make the most of whatever time they had left in each other's company before parting and heading in whatever directions they felt they wanted to go.

Even with the mysteries surrounding both of them, neither of them were truly curious enough to stick around to find those answers out. Those mysteries would have been exposed by now if they were to learn those answers. Nope, a clean break was what this was, nothing more.

Even if neither of them attempted to be the first to make that break real.


	8. The Better Part of Valor

The Better Part of Valor

There was a reason why Blood had made this particular youth the leader of one of his elite units. It was not because he always showed him the proper respect that the older man admittedly deserved and required.

As Brother Blood gazed at the lithe form of his armored-clad soldier who very appropriately called himself Warblade, he recalled the youth's ability to get results as being his best quality. That those results tended to be bloody only added to this acolyte's appeal. Combined with ruthless intelligence and fighting prowess, it was no wonder why Blood had placed him as the de facto leader of the Ravager unit.

"I serve Blood and Blood alone," Warblade intoned from his crouched position, head bent so that he was looking at the floor and not the splendid figure of the Brother.

"Rise, my acolyte and Ravager, there is much I need to speak with you," Blood generously commanded.

"I live only to serve," Warblade invoked the standard and expected reply of one of his servants, standing up to his full height, arms behind his back.

Enough of standing on ceremony. If they continued to go through the whole spiel, they'd be here far longer than necessary. Quite frankly, Blood had better things to do that waste time like that.

"Relax, my acolyte, we shall speak plainly from here on out," he ordered. "I have a task for you and your Ravagers that demands immediate action."

If there was one thing that Blood in particular enjoyed, it was seeing the bloodthirst in those youthful yet jaded eyes of the head Ravager. The eagerness to shed blood with his infamous claws was more than obvious.

"Who had the balls to piss you off?" the boy asked bluntly. Oh yes, that was much better.

"No one I know, but the Sisters had much to say about them," Blood replied. "Apparently, whoever they are, they're going to oppose me, stand in my way, you know the drill. There is a very important date coming up and I will not tolerate any obstacles that will mess it up. That's where you come in. What I want you to do is to eliminate them. I don't care how you do it. You have much leeway in the matter."

If Warblade's eyes had been shining with bloodlust before, they were positively burning with murderous desire. "So who are the poor bastards who are going to get the axe?"

"The Sisters have positively identified four of them. I have them peering into their fortunes for the times and locations where you may intercept them. The vagueness of their answers leaves much to be desired," the older man answer, giving an almost apologetic smirk at the last part. "In the meantime, you will track down the four when you're able, and when you do find them you know what to do. Right now, names are a, and I quote here, a blur. Ridiculous that the Sisters can find these four but not their names. Apparently, the blood they use only reveals who a person really is and so far these four don't know who they are. Absolute shit in my opinion but that's what we have to work with."

Who knew that looking into the future would give you vague information?

"So do I have anything to go on?" That bloodlust was lessening as frustration was beginning to replace it. His poor, disillusioned Ravager, he knew your pain all too well.

"Only the locations, and two that are for certain. Exact timing is iffy so you'll have to wait. Find, observe, and strike," Blood explained. "No sense you sending any of your comrades into an unknown situation. There is still time to get a better sense of the situation so that you can achieve whatever advantage you can. If there's been one thing the Sisters have been adamant about, it's that two of them are highly dangerous. It may take more than one Ravager to eliminate."

"Alright, take the two weak ones first, then the strong ones. Simple enough." Not a bad plan there, Ravager. Not bad at all.

"Divide and conquer to your heart's content. Now, for the locations. Both occur tonight. One in the downtown section of the city, over by Hartford. The other is closer to the residential sector, near Bellamy. As for any other information, that is all I can give for the time being or until the Sisters will give me something more concrete. Do not count on that one happening any time soon."

"Your will is my command. I bring you a gift of their heads and offer their blood," Warblade promised.

Blood gave a chuckle. "Do that, and I might give you the month off on your offerings. It will be hard for you to outdo that. Now before you go, there is one other thing I would have you do, related to your task of course."

"What is it?" A little curiosity was mixed with impatience; perfectly understandable if you knew who this acolyte was.

"I want you to take our two newest prospects with you," the Brother informed his subordinate. "You know of who I speak of."

"The ankle-biters?" Warblade was frowning, obviously not liking this order. "The hussy and her pet?"

"Terra and Garfield, correct." That was all the confirmation he would give.

"Not that I am questioning you, but why them?" There was the dislike all in that tone of voice.

"It is my belief that those two will make fine Ravagers, if only they would get over their aversion to spilling blood," Blood remarked. "What better way to do that than to put them in a situation where they will have no choice but to do that? I am sure that under your guidance, we'll be able to encourage that change."

"If you say so," the Ravager said blankly, still not sold on the plan.

Well that was going to have to change.

"I don't think you understand the situation, my acolyte. Let me say it bluntly. You will have complete control over their, ahem, 'training.' You may do with them as you like until you reach acceptable results. Do what you need to do to make them Ravagers and no less. I myself, nor our precocious Mother Mayhem, will interfere with you. Do you get it?"

Initially, he may have been a little slow on the uptake, but now that bloodlust was back in those eyes, shining like a beacon once more. Suddenly, taking along a couple "ankle-biters" was not so abhorrent.

It was safe to say that he got it.

"Go, summon your Ravagers and make me proud," Blood commanded. "Flood the streets with the blood of my enemies."

"Your wish is my command," Warblade smirked.

* * *

A gloved fist decked the would-be mugger, taking him down for the count. Breathing hard, Tim glared down at the criminal as he tightened his fists. It was a crime he had come across while going on his first official patrol and it was one he handled like in the good old days in Gotham. Just, without the usual backup.

Speaking of Gotham, it had been a few hours since Barbara had given him the heads up. Batman missing, probably dead. No way, he could not accept that. The Justice League presence in Erie was not proof of anything. Plus it was some factory that nobody was at that was blown sky high. That was pretty much all the information any of the authorities were putting out, and none were going into the nitty gritty details. You know, the kind of stuff someone would want to know.

For some reason, the League was also really hush hush about it. Wouldn't say anything about it other than they had been working on a bomb threat recently. There was the stuff about bringing the person responsible to justice, blah blah blah, but nothing about Batman. Maybe he really was on some super secret assignment or something.

This wouldn't be the first time the Batman vanished during harrowing circumstances only to show up again later. Sure, it was years since the first time, but every other times had been days or weeks. This, this would be no different, he was sure. More than likely, if the Dark Knight was involved, he was probably injured and needed to nurse his wounds. Then he'd make a comeback and everything would go back to normal, or as normal as things could get in a city like Gotham.

In the meantime, Tim would focus on what he could do here in Jump. In all honesty, that was all he could do being as he couldn't go to Gotham whenever he felt like it.

So back to basics. The standard muggings and robberies that he used to break up when with the Batclan would go a long way in getting him back into crime fighting shape. Take the mugger he had taken down just now. Huh, the guy was unconscious. Usually took a bit more effort from the costumed teen to take someone of this size down. Must be the bad news he had heard about affecting him. Oh well.

Restraining the criminal with a zip tie, Tim used his grapple, kept mostly as a backup in case his cape ever failed him, and pulled himself back up onto the rooftops. Let's see if he couldn't keep this momentum going and get his mind off things.

Making his way down the block, he kept an eye out for any signs of trouble that could use a little of his brand of help. Not that he expected something as close to the last scene he left; Jump was definitely not Gotham in that regard. He may have to go a neighborhood over if he wanted to find something to ground and pound.

After using his cape to glide himself across a street, trouble decided that it wanted to find him first instead of the other way around. A gold-glowing rope lassoed itself around his arm and gripped tightly. Dumbly, the dark-haired teen stared at it for a second and then the next thing he knew, he was abruptly pulled by it. Air rushed about him as the world became a blur, only to stop when an arm clotheslined him.

Air rushed out of his chest at the blow and it took a moment of lying on his back, staring up at the night sky, for him to get his bearings back. By the time his senses were coming back online, a strong hand had gripped him by the device that clasped his cape onto his back and he was hauled up into the air, his feet dangling over the rooftop.

"And here I was thinking it was going to be hard tracking you down," a confident female voice stated. At that moment, the face of the female thief he had been trying to find registered in his brain. She looked like the cat who caught the canary if that smirk was anything to go by.

A little bravado might be called for here.

"Funny, and here I was looking for you. If I knew who were doing the same, I would have waited." He gave a smirk of his own, a hand grabbing the armored thief's lower arm in an effort to steady himself.

He could not forget that blonde hair that was almost golden in its color, nor those intense blue eyes that expressed a certain look of being unimpressed with the vigilante. She really was quite a looker from this angle.

That was when he noticed that she wasn't wearing her usual attire. The thief outfit she typically wore was missing, in its place was the armor look that she had been sporting while they were in that blood bank. This time, her pants were gone, revealing that the tight-fitting red garment she wore reached down and over her legs. Only a pair of armored boots of the same metal material that her gauntlets were made up covered her feet and lower legs.

You know, Tim was getting the impression that underneath all the thievery, this girl could be a stand-in for an Amazon.

"Don't get full of yourself. It's not your looks that made me want to find you," the thief stated. The next thing Tim knew, she had thrown him across the rooftop, his body smacking against the gravelly surface. Coming to a stop, he pushed himself up to get her back in his line of sight.

"Well, what else am I suppose to think when someone like you comes looking for me," he quipped as he got back onto his feet. "Out of all the people that have hunted me down, you are easily the best looking of them."

"I guess they weren't worth much if they couldn't get you to shut up," she retorted as she jerked on that glowing rope of hers again.

Oh hey, that thing was still—oooohhhhh shhhhiiiiiiit—

Oof! Right in the gut! He was definitely going to feel that in the morning! Back on his back again, this time he clutched at his stomach. It was like getting hit with a sledgehammer, sheesh! There was going to be bruising down there, definitely bruising.

"Nothing personal, Red, but if you're going to mess up my gig, I can't let you ruin the highlight of my week," the thief commented as she raised a foot up.

Tim was proud of himself when he rolled out of the way at the last second. As the armored foot slammed into the floor, almost breaking through it, the teen vigilante pushed himself back onto his feet, trying to put some distance between the two of them. Long distance had always been his specialty in a fight and it was time to gain it again.

"Like hell," the armored girl swore as she pulled back on her rope again.

Oh yeah, there was still that thing. As he was pulled right back towards her, the masked male had a spurt of inspiration. Letting himself fly back towards her, he turned his body around so that he was coming at her feet first. Shoving them forward at the last second, he struck his stronger opponent in the chest—err, breasts? Talk about awkward right there.

To his surprise, that had a result as the would-be female fatale stumbled back, her around snaking around her chest in an effort to shield them while she gave a cry of surprise. Tim had not been expecting such a reaction.

"Eww, sorry about that," he called out apologetically. "Was trying to go for your gut."

"You had bad aim!" she snarled back at him, glaring at the vigilante like he was less than a cockroach to her. Was it wrong of him to think she looked hotter when she was angry? She was almost shimmering in her fury.

Wait, shimmering? Blinking his eyes, he saw that there was subtle light playing around on that red outfit she wore under that sparsely placed armor. No, hold on, there was a pattern to it. It centered mainly around her breast/chest region and small rivets of it streaked downwards, running along her stomach and splitting as it reached her legs.

He had a bad feeling about that.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry? Again?" he tried, his voice almost cracking.

The fact she pulled on that glowing rope again was all the answer that was needed. A definite "no" if he ever saw it. Not wanting to get in close quarters with her, Tim activated his cape, hardening it into its glider state and going airborne. Up and over her he went, not going too far as the rope was still wrapped around his arm. Really, he needed to do something about that.

He had a feeling that simply cutting it was not going to...cut it. Bad pun.

Speaking of which, he was being jerked downwards, the beautiful thief not content with using him as a kite. Running out of options, he guessed that now was as good a time to test this feature. With one hand, he pressed his fingers against the disc-shaped clasp on his chest and altered the electric current running through his cape.

Immediately, the flight capabilities of the material changed, taking a twin blade-like shape as he began to fall. When Tim was close to his Amazon combatant, he stabbed forward with one the cape blades.

For once, he was able to see the thief's eyes widened in shock. Last second, she blocked with a gauntleted arm, causing a sharp screech that was a pain on any eardrums in the vicinity. Rearing back, the vigilante was able to plant his feet on the solid surface of the rooftop before rushing back in with the other cape blade, slashing at the blonde bombshell.

Another block, but it was enough for the armored thief to change tact and be the one to back away. Meanwhile, Tim took the opportunity to finally slip that rope off his arm and free himself.

Readying himself, he studied his opponent carefully. Okay, this was going to need to be quick. It was obvious she was the better fighter, the shock of a new weapon being introduced the only thing to put her on guard right now. In the end, a head-to-head fight was not going to end favorably for him.

So let's not go head-to-head.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, Red?" the glowing girl bantered.

"There's more where that came from," he replied as he slipped a hand towards his belt. Removing what he wanted, the vigilante returned the hand to his weaponized cape. Taking in a quick breath of air, he charged at his foe.

This had to work just right…

She was waiting for him, already figuring out how he was going to attack. She was already moving to dodge, but trying to hit her was not his intention. Changing the consistency of his cape, he allowed his momentum to propel him up and over her with a simple flap of his arms. Back into glider mode, he passed up and over her head…

...and fled into the night.

* * *

Now, Tim would be the first to admit that while it looked like he had run away, he hadn't gone that far. That was part of the plan, though. Yeah, he had a plan, because charging head-on against someone like this armored girl was not a plan that would succeed. To beat her, he was going to have to outthink her.

Which led him to following her back to wherever it was that she called home or base.

After hiding himself, he waited until this mysterious girl grew frustrated enough when she couldn't find him and decided to call her search off. Maybe it might have been a little dumb of him to expect her to leave as soon as he was out of sight. He had been treated, instead, to a game of cat and mouse where he constantly scrambled to stay out of sight while she got really close to catching him a few times.

How the hell she was doing that, he had no idea. He spent so much energy avoiding her that he was nearly drenched in sweat and panting, which in this outfit was not a real good thing. Sure, it was designed to handle this kind of thing, but that didn't mean that it could do it for this long. The masked teen was so going to need to take a long shower after this.

Eventually, _eventually_ , this bombshell of a girl called it quits—she was very vocal on that part—and she took off. Now the genius of his plan could come into effect. Earlier, he had taken out a tracking device from his utility belt and had planted it on her. The teen vigilante didn't need to have her in sight in order to follow her through the city and into the suburbs.

By that point, he was able to keep her in sight, even if he didn't need to. The handheld receiver continuously reported back to him where she was at all times. Shouldn't be too difficult since she was the red dot on the small screen. Tim felt that after keeping out of sight for so long, as well as the lack of areas to lose someone in this new urban environment, he could keep her within eyesight now.

That's not to say he wasn't in danger of being spotted. Periodically, this girl would stop and look around, as if seeing if anybody happened to see her. He had to hide behind a few chimneys to prevent his discovery by those intense blue eyes of hers.

Finally, she reached a two-story home that the masked teen concluded was where she set up shop. The place was so normal looking, and he would not have considered it to be the place this thief would hide in during the daylight hours if she hadn't picked up a potted plant and used the key underneath it to unlock the front door.

How ironic that a person who broke into other people's homes and robbed them would be cautious enough to lock up hers. As Tim spied on her with his trusty pair of binoculars, he smirked at a job well done. Taking down the house's number then the name of the street, he knew he would need to do a little research on the place, specifically on the name of the person or persons who lived there.

He could imagine the look of shock on her face the next time they met and he used her real name. Oh, this was going to be good. The best part was that he wouldn't need Barbara to do this either.

Tucking away his binoculars, the teen vigilante retreated back to the city, his destination being his own little base of operations. He needed to get home as soon as possible so that he could follow this lead up.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, a friendly neighborhood owl watched him, turning its head as the costumed adolescent hurried off into the night. While most wouldn't give such a creature a second thought, a longer look at it would have raised some concern.

After all, how many owls came in the natural colors of green?

* * *

Delaying tactics could only last so long. At long last, Victor finally left Rachel's side and was on his own once more. There was no sense moping about it. Both of them had known this was how it was going to end up, right?

Right. Victor could walk off, get away from the big city and continue on his endless journey of wandering the country without any destination in mind. All by himself. Just as he had started it. No problem with that whatsoever.

Okay, okay, that little girl had grown on him. She did know how to talk back and that wit was definitely going to be missed. But hey, they both had their reasons for doing what they were doing, right? Reasons that neither told the other about but reasons nonetheless.

It really sounded like he was trying to talk himself into this, didn't it?

Then _it_ happened.

What _it_ was, Victor didn't really know but when _it_ was done, he found himself in a trench dug through the sidewalk. His body had been the tool used to make said trench. The only thing in his memory that had been recorded was the world rushing around him before coming to a slow stop.

His systems detected stimuli—no, he was hearing something. Footsteps, and they were growing louder, meaning they were approaching him. Lifting his head up, his hood slipping off his head, Victor used both his human and cybernetic eye to locate whoever it was that was moving towards him.

"You survived that? You're a bit tougher than most, aren't you?" a blond male taunted. He wore this odd outfit, blue mostly around his torso while black sleeves and thigh-high boots covered his arms and legs respectively. There were white patches around his shoulders, probably some kind of shoulder guard.

The look this guy was giving him was not friendly either. Zooming in, the laid-out male could see a sneer curving those lips. Okay, he zoomed in way too much. Pull out a bit. Alright, who the hell was this guy.

Digging his hands into the ground, Victor shoved himself up into a sitting position, following up that feat by getting back onto his feet. He had an urge to pop his neck, like he used to do before a big game, but ignored it because that was another life.

"Alright pal, I don't know who you are, what I did, but all I know is that I want no part of this," he said. "Let's just turn around and go our separate ways. Leave it at that."

"No can do," the blond guy replied. "You may not know it, but you made a guy I know unhappy. And when he gets unhappy, people die. And I'm the guy who makes that happen."

That movie cliché aside, Victor wasn't liking the sound of it. "And what guy did I make unhappy? Because I swear, I didn't mean to do it."

"You living and breathing is enough." A shrug of the shoulders emphasized how little this attacker cared about Victor's words. "So—"

The black-skinned male didn't know what was said after that, because the thing that had knocked him down earlier struck him again. There was a second blow at some point, and then another stop. Wood was involved this time and as he looked up, he found that a tree had stopped him.

A loud exhale of air.

What the hell was going on.

As he lifted a hand up, he stopped the movement to scowl at his now revealed arm. A very robotic arm, he might add. No flesh could be seen, only a very thick, cylindrical limb that tried to mimic what a human arm was supposed to be. To Victor, it looked way too bulky even though he could move it around like it weighed nothing.

A thought occurring to him, he looked down at the rest of him and groaned. The hoodie he wore was ripped to pieces, Goddamn it. His pants were also on their last legs, how great. As wind blew around him, he let loose a frustrated growl.

This asshole had no idea how hard it was for him to find clothes in a size so that he could cover all of this metal up. Not everyone was as bulky as he was, and finding extra, extra, extra large clothing out in the open was almost impossible outside of a Walmart. Just for this, somebody was going to find out how tough he was.

And then he was hit again, the tree behind himself somehow holding on. His sensors were screaming at him that something was pressed against him, and it took his human eye to see just what it was. That blond guy was hovering in the air, the wind itself enveloping him like he was an air-based comet. On top of all that, he was using that same wind to drill some hole into him.

He wasn't succeeding.

Balling a metal hand into a fist, Victor decked this bastard and was very, very pleased to see this guy go skipping bodily against the ground. The only way this could have been better was if he had felt the impact against his fist himself.

Once again getting back onto his feet, he held his fists in front of him as he waited for whoever this guy to get back up.

Unlike himself, the guy was taking a much longer time to do that. For a moment, he was lying still until he started pushing himself up. Zooming in, Victor winced as a scanned pointed out some dislocation in the jaw area. Well, the asshole deserved for attacking for some dumb reason.

Hmm, maybe he had done more damage than he had thought. The guy was frantically throwing an arm around but was accomplishing nothing. Well, he hadn't meant to give him brain damage too. Guess he didn't know his own strength.

"Had enough already?" Victor called out to his blond-haired attacker. "Or do you need more? If I were you, I'd—"

A flash of energy cut the air right in front of his face. The metal teen jerked back instinctively, practically twisting his head to a side to locate the source of this latest attack. What he found was a large group of what looked like vagrants, but each and every one of them held a very sophisticated weapon. Weapons that were eerily similar...no not similar, identical to the same weapons used during that alien invasion.

The same invasion where…

"Stay back!" he shouted at this group, holding up hand in warning. He blinked double time when he noticed that said hand wasn't the same metal one he had become accustomed to having, but his old, flesh and blood hand. Which shouldn't be possible yet here it was, back again. What was happening—!

And then said hand was vaporized by a second blast of energy, fired from one of those men. Victor screamed as he beheld the nub that now replaced his hand, the wound seared shut. It was just like last time!

The group of armed men were circling around him, blocking off all escape, even as the African American male held his stubby arm, wisps of thread from his letterman jacket...that he had used to wear...before…

Multiple shots of energy cut through not only his flooding memories but through his body as well. His legs were blasted right out from under him, his arms were decimated by the onslaught, and the burns— _the burns!_ —he was losing everything again! He could even hear the cries of his father, screaming his name in a tone of voice he had never heard before.

It all stopped with the injured teen on the ground, groaning with the agony that wracked his body. He felt more than heard the group of men moving towards him, intending to see if he was still alive and if so…

Oh God, he did not want to die.

It wasn't the sight of some grungy guy who came into view, oh no. That would have been preferable. Instead, he saw a tall, purple-skinned monster stand over him, a thin fin standing on top of his head like a mohawk. He could have sworn this thing had a mustache, which was weird to him. Empty eyes stared at him, as if measuring his worth.

"This one is useless. Terminate it," the creature ordered, not even giving a snort of contempt.

No, don't terminate it! Stop! Please! He—he was just a kid! He wasn't supposed to be here! No, please, don't!

The barrel of one of those weapons was in sight now, a light slowly growing inside it as the power inside was about to be fired. And there Victor was, helpless, and unable to defend himself. He almost anticipated the shot going into the left side of his head, expected it…

The loud cry of a bird shrieked and then everything, the guy with the alien tech, the monstrous alien with the mustache, all of it was ripped through as a black bird tore it apart. There was anger and fury in that screech as everything Victor could see was just wiped away, and all that was left was this inky blackness. Had he died? Was this it? Had that bird finished what the man and purple-skinned alien intended to do?

— _ke up…_

A snippet of sound that didn't really register.

 _...your eyes….op…_

It was so soft. Yet he still heard it in all this stillness...

Typically at this point, he should have heard that sound again. It wasn't there. Maybe he had imagined it. A trick of his mind, a reminder of a world he had only just left—

" _OH SHIT!_ " Victor shouted as a jolt forced his eye open, the world returning to him as it was before he had been shot to kingdom come. That inky blackness was pulling away, revealing the park he had been thrown into and a sight for sore eyes.

"Back online?" Rachel quipped sarcastically.

And now there was a headache, a delayed reaction the programing from his robotic half informed him. So much data being run through his human brain, like he had gone through lag and everything was being caught up with all at once. Never a pleasant experience.

So he grabbed onto the first thing that seemed to make sense, though by its nature it made no sense. "Rachel? What are you doing here? I thought you left already."

"A bit slow. Need some more RAM?"

"Oh ha ha, computer jokes. Get them out of your system and answer the question," Victor retorted, not really in the mood. As the bit of info about the blond-haired attacker came to mind, he quickly did a search for him only to find no one else around. The guy moved fast for having brain damage.

"And here I thought between the two of us, you were the one with the sense of humor." Rachel was rolling her eyes at him now. "To answer your question, I had left. Then I detected psychic activity and got curious. Lo and behold, I found you in the middle of it."

"A psychic attack?" he repeated, raising the only eyebrow he had. Yeah, he was also catching up on the fact that he was still mostly cybernetic, though he could have sworn…

"You were literally standing in one place. There were two assailants, and one to tried to strike at me with. I dealt with them, though I fear they escaped," Rachel continued with her explanation. "Since I couldn't leave you there trapped in a trance like you were, I thought it would be kind of me to free you from it. You're welcome."

Okaaaay. Psychic attacks. Is that what happened? He wasn't really sure about that. Though, if he checked the sensors in his body, he couldn't find anything that reported he had experienced any kind of physical attack after decking that one guy. Yet it all felt so real.

"By the way, who were those men? What were those weapons? And who was the creature with the purple skin?"

It was all asked casually, but it shocked Victor to hear about the things he saw being spoken by the girl who shouldn't have been able to see them, if this was some kind of psychic attack like she said.

"Wait, hold on. You saw those guys too? And that freaky monster with the mustache?" he demanded more than asked, holding up a hand as if to say "Hold the fuck up!"

"Figments of your imagination that appeared in your mind's eyes. I had to see them to end that attack," Rachel stated matter of factly. "I saved you, I do believe that you owe me that. _Quid pro quo_ , remember?"

There should have been an alarm blaring, but that was probably in his head. Nonetheless, Victor went for a delaying tactic because that was something he didn't want to answer. At all.

"Are you sure it's safe? I mean, whoever attacked me psychically could come back," he said hastily, eyes darting around, searching for another potential attack.

Despite how desperate he must have sounded, Rachel did consider his words. Thank heaven. "You have a point. We'll need to go find a safer place to hide out until you learn who attacked you. Once we do, you can tell me about what I saw in your head."

"That's not really necessary," Victor tried again, speaking quickly. "I'm heading out of town so whoever—"

"Whoever is responsible for this may come at you again, and may be more successful a second time," the shorter, slighter girl interrupted. "Normally, I wouldn't involve myself in something like this, but I have come to develop a fondness for you, Victor. Enough that I will intervene if you ever were to find yourself in danger, such as in your recent history. It's also in my best interest to know if they would target me if only by association with you."

"So you want to know if whoever these people were who want to hurt me also want to hurt you," he summed up.

"Precisely."

Oh boy. Not looking good for him. This night was getting really, really weird.

And he was sure before it was over, that it would get awkward as well.


	9. Mnemosyne and Moros

Mnemosyne and Moros

Eager to continue his investigation into that thief he had been chasing now that he knew her home address, Tim had returned to the little storage space that he had been using to store his crime-fighting equipment. While it was a bit out of the way for him to go, probably done on purpose, he had no intentions of moving it yet. Not until he found a better location.

Funny how the entrance was a metal door with a padlock on it, located in a trash-filled alley that no one in their right mind would look around in. Since desperation was not being in your right mind, the teen vigilante kept his eyes peeled for anybody that might be around or watching. The last thing he needed was someone thinking that something valuable was stored here.

Maybe he should add that to his list of things to do: find a new base of operations. Just standing in this alley was making him paranoid. And now that he was looking at it, wouldn't a padlock make this door a target for scavengers? If it's locked, there must be something in it.

At least there weren't any dead bodies around.

As he approached the door, one hand reaching to his utility belt to take out the key to the lock, he paused as his paranoia reared its head. He felt like he was being watched, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Instinct was telling him to secure this area, make sure there was no one around.

Drake, you were messing with yourself. The only person to really be worried about was that thief girl he stalked halfway through the city. As far as he knew, she had called it a night early when she couldn't find him. There was no one else with a grudge against him in Jump. Well, there were that pair in the blood bank, but he hadn't found anything on them yet.

Still, to make sure that he wasn't being irrational, he'd do a quick look around then call it a night himself. The sooner he could ID his thief, the sooner he could confront and take her down. Not too bad for his first case in this new city.

Backing away from the alley, Tim peered around the four-way intersection through which his was connected. While the other three back alleys were much cleaner than the one he was using, he could see nothing around that would support his suspicions of being watched. He really was playing tricks on himself. Time to calm down a bit; he really should take some time away from the vigilante business to do some self-care. No sense burning himself out when he was getting back into the game.

That sense of paranoia returned suddenly and without warning. This time, there was a sound to accompany this abrupt alarm, and Tim dodged to the right as something landed right where he had been standing. Spinning around, the masked teen took up a defensive stance, hands and arms raised in front of him as he faced a tall, almost spidery assailant.

Whoever this was, they wore a mask that looked to be metal and came complete with glowing green eyes and what appeared to be a grinning smile. Long, blade-like claws drew his attention next as this masked person flexed his fingers beneath black-colored gloves.

"You're quick, aren't you?" the grinning masked attacker commented. "Or maybe you're just lucky. Don't worry, I'll get you with the next one."

"Who are you?" Tim demanded as he braced himself.

"Nobody you need to know," his would-be assailant replied. "It wouldn't do a dead man like you any good anyway."

Oh great, so his paranoia was right.

"I don't even know why you're trying to kill me," he spat back as he moved to his right. His blade-wielding opponent copied him, resulting in the two of them circling one another.

"Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever you are," came the counter. The voice was very lazy-sounding, arrogant too. Like this masked guy knew he was better than him and didn't need to take this seriously at all. "I guess, like a cat, you'll skin just as easily."

He was quick, this guy. A simple lunge removed all distance between the two of them, and Tim was dodging with all his might, trying not to get cut up. Those blade-fingers stabbed at him first; however their threat was not over as the assailant spread out his fingers and pulled his hand back. Tim almost felt the tips of those blades against his skin, they were that close to touching him.

The grinning masked guy's other hand was stabbing out, and the vigilante jumped to his left, ducking as his evasion was responded to with a slash from the first hand. The teen followed with a roll as a foot kicked at him. Good thing he had done that; the foot made a small depression in the brick wall it ended up striking.

Rising up into a crouch, Tim swung his arm, throwing a whirling disc that contained a nice, little, fuck you explosive in it. To his shock and surprise, his masked assailant slashed the throwing projectile cleanly, the weaponized device scattering harmlessly into pieces. Well shit.

Without taking a second for pause, the masked attacker was coming at the vigilante again with those blades. You could hear the air whistle around the sharp edges as they sliced and slashed at the costumed teen. Always by the sky of his teeth would the dark-haired teen manage to avoid each attack, but they were getting closer by the second.

He could not afford to be scratched up in such a visible place like his face. That would raise a lot of questions from his parents.

Because he was paying too much attention to his opponent's hands, he was caught by surprise when a leg swung and tripped him. He didn't have a second to lie there as now those knife-fingers were stabbing down at him from above. To his right, then back to his left, he rolled from shoulder to shoulder, a pair of legs planting themselves on either side of him.

As one strike nailed the ground beside him, Tim snagged onto the extended arm and held down with all his strength. From the corner of his eye, he could see that his attacker was not hindered by this as he raised his other arm up in preparation for his next and highly accurate stab.

Bringing his legs up, Tim nailed the bastard in the ass with his knees. It wasn't enough to throw the guy off his feet, but it did knock him off his balance.

Gritting his teeth together, the young vigilante twisted his torso while kicking his legs out. This allowed him to snake his way between his opponent's spread out legs, all the while bringing one of those extremely dangerous hands with him. Sitting up on his lower legs, he continued to gain leverage, jerking the captive arm up and into the guy's crotch.

There, he had him where—whoa! What the!

To Tim's surprise, this masked asshole somehow flipped himself over and much like the vigilante had done earlier, twisted around so that though bent over, he was facing the red, black, and yellow colored teen's stomach. It should have been impossible to do such acrobatics and contortions, but it had happened.

Quickly, Tim moved around, bringing the arm he refused to let go of with him, hoping to somehow pin it behind this guys' back. No such luck as a high kick was swung and got him in the ribs, forcing him not only away but to lose his grip.

As he regained his balance, his eyes widened from behind his mask and he ducked under a swipe. Scrambling back, he snagged a trashcan lid and tried to use it as a blunt weapon to fight his assailant off. Much like his disc from earlier, those finger-blades sliced through the aluminum object with ease.

Okay, time to try something different.

Tossing aside the remains of the lid, he activated his cape, selecting the weapon form of it. The cape split into two large, and noticeably wide, blade-like protrusions that rested on the backs of his arms. Time for a real durability test for it.

Not in the least bit intimidated, his attacker struck out from those deadly hands, Tim bringing up one of his arms and using his transformed cape as a shield. There was a loud screech as four, long, thin blades struck this makeshift shield, but the cape held without anything piercing through.

He blocked several strikes after that initial one, raising and lowering his right arm while holding his left arm back in reserve. Each time those blades hit, and each time his cape held. Very awesome and he'd geek out about it later when his life wasn't on the line.

"You have some neat toys," the masked attacker chuckled as he brought a foot up and kicked, landing the blow smack dab in the middle of Tim's cape shield. The force sent the teen backward, his feet digging into the pavement, but he continued standing.

Normally, he would have given some kind of quip or retort in reply, but the last few minutes had been very physically taxing on him. He was panting, his face was sweaty, and he could feel a burning sensation in his muscles from the high intensity moves he had been forcing through them. No amount of training and practicing with Dick could have prepared him for this.

To sum it up, he was getting tired.

As if recognizing this, a chuckle filtered out from behind that grinning face of a mask. However, instead of trying to slice and dice, the attacker changed his game up, throwing kick after kick at him. Each one had some power behind them, and each one forced Tim further back into the back alleys. One particular hit made him stumble.

Realizing what the next attack would be, Tim brought his left arm front and center, blocking the swiping leg that tried to trip him. Unfortunately, he was too slow bringing his right arm to defend him as a fist clipped his head.

Then the third attack struck him in the torso. Since there wasn't a stabbing pain there, the teen assumed that it was something like another fist or a foot that penetrated his defenses. Regardless, that sent him off his feet and back on his back...how many times was that going to happen tonight anyway?

Next thing he knew, his right arm, cape and all, was stomped down on, pinning him down. High above, a hand was held with those long blades ready to fall down. You didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what those noticeably sharp weapons were aiming for.

For a second, Tim waited for some last words given in parting by his would-be killer. In this, there would be none as they began to lower with frightening speed.

Until a fist smashed into that mask's grinning face, flinging him off the vigilante with impressive might. The once helpless teen blinked dumbly at the turn of events, slowly leaning his head back and finding that someone else was standing over him. From this position, had this interloper been wearing a skirt, he would have gotten a great look up it.

But she wasn't wearing a skirt, and yes, he could tell because of the dark, skintight outfit she wore. He had no idea what it was that she was wearing, but his hormonal side claimed it was out of this world. He was tempted to agree with that assessment.

The fist that had saved him next grabbed him by the front of his costume and hefted him up with ease. Now he had a good look at a very beautiful face, though thanks to the poor lighting, he could only make out what looked like dark-colored eyes piercing into his own. There was also a mesmerizing intensity about them and he was having problems looking away…

Was it him or was her face getting closer to his? Like, uncomfortable close?

In a move that would have his fellow males rip on him for being such a pussy, he slid his hand in front of his face and felt pressure from a pair of lips press against his gloved fingers. Holy shit, he almost just got kissed by a chick! And he was looking away! No one better not find out about this!

As the lips pulled away, Tim turned his head back and lowered his hand, finding out that his savior-now-molester had a peeved expression on her face. Hold up, she was closing in again—

"That's enough kissy face for one day!" Tim's wannabe murderer roared as he interrupted this moment of spontaneous and out-of-nowhere romance. Whether the fact he felt relief was a good thing or a bad thing was debatable. Whatever, he'd hate himself later. All he needed to be concerned about now was the immediate danger coming at him from behind.

The strange yet beautiful woman that had come to his rescue moved him out of the way while blocking the mask assailant's attack with her lower arm. Amazingly, she kept up with the ghoulishly masked attacker, blocking each and every stab and blow with that same arm, all the while holding him up in the air with the other.

So she knew how to fight too. Well maybe she could distract this guy long enough so that he could get away. Not that he wanted to leave her behind, but she was taking care of herself quite well here. Though, when her eyes began glowing green, that became a sign that yeah, he didn't want anymore part of this.

Pulling out a disc, he manually reset the timer for its explosive before let it loose into the air. The detonation occurred directly between the two fighters, shouts of shock and surprise coming from the two of them. How Tim was able slip his suit out of the strange woman's grasp, he didn't know; all he knew was that he was able to and he took off as quickly as he could.

With fingers pressing his cape's clasp, he redirected the electric current running through it as well as activated one more feature of his costume. It was one he hadn't completely tested yet, but now looked as good a time as any.

As he heard the woman yelling after him—he noted how he understood not a single word from her—his boots let loose a blast that sent him up into the air. Yep, rocket boots, they were a thing now, and they gave him enough distance off the ground that his cape could glide with the force given to him.

Over the rooftops he went, fleeing the area as quickly as he could. Hopefully he hadn't abandoned his rescuer to a grisly fate, but survival was the most important thing for him right now.

At least, that was what he told himself.

* * *

Victor had a feeling he didn't want to know how Rachel got her hands on the "safe place" that she had led him to. Based on the decor, it was someone's apartment that they weren't using right now. The cloak-wearing girl had stated that no one would interrupt them, at least for tonight, so they had until morning to clear out.

That he had seen her form a black circle on the apartment's door, step into it, then opened the door from the inside only further convinced him that this was a very elaborate breaking and entering kind of deal they were involved in.

"My apologies, but I could not find anything to replace your wardrobe," Rachel told him a while ago. Oh, so this wasn't a simple breaking and entering but a potential burglary. Nice, Victor, real nice.

Once the two of them had settled into this place, well, as much as people like them could be settled in here, the half-human, ,half-robotic teen had a sneaking suspicion that he was about to get really uncomfortable. How did he know? Oh, he didn't know, maybe it had to do with that pointed look Rachel was giving him.

It was a look that expressed a simple word: spill.

Instead, he tried to play the safer option, i.e. dumb. "You look like you want to say something."

"I have saved your life and now provided you shelter. You know what I want in return," the smaller girl stated. "Remember, I had to go into your head. I saw things that made no sense to me and I want the answers. Let's skip the stalling and wasting of time, because when I want to know something, I will learn it."

And before he had been wanting her to speak up more often. Now he could only yearn for the days where she only made the minimal of conversation. Be careful what you wish for indeed.

"So why should I share something so personal when you won't give me any details of yourself?" Victor retorted. "What you're asking for, I don't think it's a fair exchange that I hand you that info and you don't give me something of equal value. This isn't a standard _quid pro quo_ thing you're asking for. I'll pay you back in other ways, just not this one. So will you drop it?"

"Not possible. If it will make you comfortable, I'll throw in something about myself. To sweeten the deal," Rachel offered.

That made Victor raise up his only eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Do I make jokes?"

"You've made some at my expense."

"Those are called jabs. Also, men have another phrase for it. I think it's called 'ripping.'"

She wasn't going to let this go. Not this time. Frankly, he wanted to ignore her, really he did. However, she had some weird powers of her own. He hadn't seen too much of it outside of transportation and apparently breaking psychic trances. Who knew what else she could do with them? She had mentioned she had gone into his head, hadn't she?

Fine. Fine, whatever. If she wanted it so bad, then she better well tell something about herself as well. "Alright, we have a deal so long as you keep your word about telling me a bit about yourself."

"Have I never kept my word before?" Now she was raising an eyebrow at him. It was very visible, even with her hood down.

"I don't know, you seem like the type to weasel your way out through some loophole I wouldn't have noticed."

"I think my cynicism is rubbing off on you. You have my word for reciprocation. You tell me about what it was I saw and I will tell you about myself. I can't promise you will be satisfied with what I'll tell you, but neither can it be said that you will satisfy my curiosity with what you'll tell me. Better?"

Better than nothing, which wasn't saying much.

"It was a few years ago," he began, jumping right into things. As if there was a better way to do it. "I was entering high school, signing up for football, stuff that a normal kid does. And we were having a great season. I was...I was having the time of my life. I was the running back and no one could keep up with me. Natural talent and all that.

"But that's not what you want to hear. Well, it was because of football that I went to see my old man. He's some kind of scientist; even now I don't really know what he specializes in. Never made the move to find out. Then again, he never showed up for any of my games either so it's kinda like petty payback. Anyway, I was at his work, some government building. I was heading towards his lab, I knew he was expecting me because places like that make sure they know who you are and that the person you're meeting knows you're there or are expecting you.

"On that day, I don't think anybody was expecting the alien invasion."

"You mean when the Kalanorians tried to conquer this planet?"

"Is that what they're called? That's another thing I never tried finding out. If these Kala-whatevers are tall, purple-skinned, and have fins on their heads, then yeah, that's the guys who attacked that day. Detroit was one of the cities they hit first, and I think my dad's workplace was one the places they targeted. They had a bunch of people—erm, human people—working with them. Even let them have some of their toys to play with. They showed up and started wrecking the place."

"And they were the men I saw? The ones with those unusual weapons?" The question was asked softly, seeking confirmation. "They...circled around you? Cut off your escape so you couldn't run?"

"Not...not exactly. I was in a hallway when they ran into me." Victor could remember the panic he felt as he had turned the corner and found four of them there, firing those alien weapons into a room. They hadn't been laughing, simply doing what was ordered of them. In some ways that was more frightening. "I tried to run, use those football skills I had. They shot off one of my legs. Then my other leg. My arms. I was only a head and a torso at that point. But that was too much for them. The last thing I saw, one of them was over me, aiming that gun at me and then… Then it all went bright then dark."

Unconsciously, he had raised an arm up, shreds of his hood dangling along the limb, his robotic hand hovering over the left side of his face. His cybernetic eye registered the titanium object, but in his mind's eye, Victor didn't notice it. Not really. It was a weird duality that he had gotten used to. To be aware of everything and not at all at the same time.

"After that, it was pain. All around me. Nonstop. Next thing I know, I'm online. Rebooting. The first thing I see is my father's face. If I didn't know any better, I would say that he looked worried for me. Scared that I wouldn't make it. For a second, I swore I saw him happy. Hadn't seen that in a long time. But then it was all about testing, testing, testing. How do you feel? Can you feel this? Can you see that? Can you pick that up? Gross motor function, fine motor function. How strong are you? How are your processors doing?"

With each statement and question he spoke, Victor's voice raised as frustration and anger took hold. "Yeah, I can pick that shit up. Over my head too! I'm doing calculations in my head that I didn't know anything about! I don't know why, but yes, I FUCKING FEEL THAT! WHAT MORE DO YOU PEOPLE WANT!"

A hand pressing itself against the side of his human face stopped him from his loud rant. It reminded him of where he was now, not then. It took a second, but his recent companion was processed and he saw how physically close to him she was. In her eyes, he could swear there was concern in them. Hard to make out, really, but wasn't this girl always so emotionless? He hardly remembered getting any kind of response out of her outside of a monotone or sass.

Clearing his throat, though he didn't need to, he apologized. "Sorry. Got...got a bit caught up in all that."

"You have strong emotions attached to those memories. It is nothing for you to apologize for," Rachel told him.

Something about her tone of voice was soothing, and he relaxed a bit. With the back of his hand, he tapped it against Rachel's arm, nonverbally telling her that she could move her hand now. She did.

"I spent a couple of years there. The lab geeks always wanted to know more and more of what I could do now, and finally I had enough. It took me a bit, but I found that I could connect to their computer systems. This part I'm still surprised by, but I hacked through their security and let myself walk out of there. I don't even know how I did it, but it was so easy. I hit the road, wanting nothing more to do with it, and that's what I've been doing ever since.

"I didn't think it through, though. I mean, who wants to hire a guy who looks like me? It was a bitch finding the clothes I'm wearing now. And then I had nowhere I could go that anybody with half a brain wouldn't go looking for me at. One thing led to another, and I'm going cross country with nowhere in mind. You know the rest."

A nod of the girl's head. No need for a verbal answer.

Giving a sigh, Victor slumped down on an ottoman, the furniture groaning under his weight. "So that's the big story behind the robot man. Anything else you want to know?"

"I think it's safe to say that my curiosity has been sated. Thank you for sharing with me. I know it must not have been easy."

Almost smiling grimly, the half-robotic teen gave a nod of his head. "Yeah, well, it wasn't. Speaking of, what about you? I remember having a little deal."

Victor expected some resistance here. Rachel, he knew, was not keen to share any information about herself. Hell, he didn't even know how she liked her coffee, and he had watched her order so many cups…

"Basically, our stories have a lot in common," Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "I myself am avoiding my father. He's not pleasant company. Unfortunately, he insists on having a relationship, one I don't want. Before you ask, my mother is not of the living either. I have nowhere to go and the only place I know is one I have no desire to go to. Like yourself, I ran away, no destination in mind, and the rest you know."

Certainly there was some vagueness in her answer, but frankly it was more information she had ever given to him. Ever. Sure, it was general statements that could be taken in anyway. She had used his own story as context to fill up any and all holes. Not bad, really, but there was one thing that she was leaving out.

"What part does the psychic stuff play in? Before today, I had no idea that any of that was real, but obviously you do. Let me guess, did your old man have an unhealthy interest in it?" Victor crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for what would be a refusal or an attempt to avoid the topic.

"That's a good way to put it." Surprise, surprise, nothing else after that. "There is one difference." Huh, wait, she was going to say more? "Whereas your background is heavily influenced by science, mine is of the supernatural element."

Victor blinked at the honesty. "So...ghosts and magic and all that stuff?"

"Let's leave it at magic. Much of what I do is...magic."

"So that black bird thing. That was you using magic."

"Correct."

"And back in the desert when the cops tried to shoot me. That was magic too?"

"Correct again."

"And just now where you went through the wall. That too?"

"If you're going to list everything, we're going to be here for a while."

"One more thing. Do you use magic to buy stuff like all that coffee?"

"No, I do what everybody else does. I use cash." There was a hint of irritation in her voice.

"Oh." There really was nothing else he could say to that.

"How I get the cash is another story."

"Upp, upp, don't want to know more!" He held up a hand to signal for her to stop. The less he knew, the better.

"Very well. Is there more you wish to inquire? I think my graciousness is about to come to an end."

"Actually, I have none. You've got most of them. All I could ask are for details I'm not sure you're willing to give." He shrugged his bulky, metal shoulders in surrender.

Giving a "hmm," Rachel then addressed a new topic. Or old, depending on how you looked at it. "There's one thing I am curious about still. Who were those people that attacked you? Anybody you recognize?"

"Nope. I don't know who they were or why there were fighting me," he denied. "The guy came out of nowhere but he tossed me around somehow. I am as heavy as I look, if you were wondering. And I have no idea where that, what did you call it, psychic attack...thing, whatever it was, I don't know where that came from either."

"Did they mention anything? Like capture?" Rachel questioned.

"Nope. Nothing. Only that they were trying to kill me. I don't know how, but I made someone unhappy. Those were the words used and I have it all recorded right up here." Victor tapped the robotic side of his head for emphasis. "They had a beef with me and gave no real reason for it."

"That does not bode well." Ye gads, she looked concerned. The smaller girl was tucking her lower lip into her mouth, like she was chewing on it. Such an emotional expression she was showing! Victor definitely needed to record it. You know, for proof. "Someone has it out for you, and they have someone able to attack you that you have no defense against."

"I guess that's what I get for being Mr. Popular."

"And there's the wit. For a moment, I was tempted to stick around and make sure you were no longer in danger. I think I am reconsidering that."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, not so fast. Look I'll turn it down a bit. I mean, who knows when they'll come back, right?" Victor quickly went into damage control mode. It wasn't as if he wanted her to stick around or anything. She knew what she was talking about, probably, and if there were more psychic stuff in the future, it would be handy to have her around.

And denial was a river in Egypt.

Now this was certainly a night for new experiences, because Rachel's lips curved into a smirk. "I will hold you to that, Victor."

You know, on second thought, this might not be such a good idea.

* * *

On a rooftop on no particular building, the Ravagers regrouped from a long night.

Warblade looked a little worse for wear, but remained standing tall and firm. It had taken him some time to get out of the fight with that strange intruder. He had no idea who she had been, only that she knew how to fight. Better than the person he had been intending to kill that night, at any rate. But like a dog with its tail between its legs, his target had taken off at the first opportunity.

Oddly enough, the woman who butted in where she had no business butting in had looked more upset than him. A bit odd if he took the time to think about it.

However, his failure aside, it was time to see how his subordinates had fared. He had brought at least two trusty Ravagers with him on this mission. The other two were the ankle-biters that Brother Blood had forced on him. No one would say that he didn't give them a chance.

The sight of Windstrom holding his jaw was not a good sign, but maybe it was a trophy from a tough fight that he emerged victorious from. Obviously, the blond-haired male would not be speaking any time soon. If he did, it would probably be hard to understand. Instead, he looked towards the girl in the green cape, a high collar extending up and around her head. It was as if someone was trying to scream to the world they were a supervillain.

"Phobia, report," he ordered snappishly.

"The prey escaped," the girl known as Phobia said casually, as if she truly was not bothered by it.

"Explain," he ordered.

Naturally narrowed eyes resting above high cheekbones turned to the broken jaw Windstorm, a hint of scorn slipping into her haughty voice as she spoke. "Windy here couldn't take his man head on. A bit in over his head as it were. How many hits did you take before you were calling me in again?"

Windstorm, the self-declared master of wind, glared back at his female comrade. He also flipped her the bird.

"I assume you tagged in. Did _you_ succeed where he failed?" Warblade pressed.

"I had him trapped in one of my illusions. His mind was ripe to be crushed," Phobia announced proudly, boastfully even.

"I recall you said he escaped. How did _you_ fail like Windy over here?" In response, the Ravager leader faced two glares aimed at him.

"Foreign intervention," Phobia sniffed dismissively, tilting her head back and really showing off her two drawn-on eyebrows. "Someone with powers rivaling my own interrupted my spell and rescued the prey. I thought it best to strategically retreat and see if another opportunity would provide itself. Windy here forced me to—"

Narrowed eyes widened as two delicately gloved hands flew up to her throat. A supple mouth made a pretty good expression of a fish, in particular a fish out of water. Nearby, Windstorm had his arm raised up and pointed directly at the female of aristocratic origins, eyes burning in fury.

As entertaining as this was, Warblade still needed answers. "Enough. Let her breathe."

Like the trained hound he was, Windstorm obeyed and arrogant little Phobia was nearly hacking up a lung as she coughed from the sudden return of air into her body.

"So whoever rescued your target also got away too, is that right?" Back to the debriefing. They needed to be professionals here.

"In...indeed," Phobia confirmed through her pants, though her eyes were on Windstorm the entire time, promising retribution.

"Well, what about you, ankle-biters?" Turning away from his humiliated Ravagers, Warblade directed his attention at the newer members. At least, they would be newer members if Brother Blood had it his way. Not that the leader of this team doubted the wiser man, but as of now he still had his doubts about two kids who had yet to take a life.

The green boy, eager to share any success he had, piped up first. "I followed after that guy with the cape and the girl with the rope. I don't think they liked each other."

Behind his mask, Warblade was tempted to raise an eyebrow. "Did you engage?"

"Well, you see, this isn't the first time I got in a fight with them. I…" Scrutiny was not the way to keep this guy talking. Weird since everything he knew about him involved his mouth and how he didn't shut up.

"And when did that happen?" he asked pleasantly. There was a part of him that was a bit pissed that he hadn't been told about that.

"The other night. The girl knows how to fight. I can't say much about the guy," Greenie answered, shrugging his shoulder helplessly. "I did tell you he was heading your way, right? When they split up."

Warblade grunted. "You did. But let me guess, you got cold feet and didn't try for a rematch with that chick, right? You didn't try to go grizzly and maul her or anything useful?"

It was almost amusing the way the green-colored ankle-biter tried to say something in his defense and failed to get a single word out. It happened several times, actually. "I… Um… Well… It's… Now… I… Look, I… Eh… Er…"

How long was he going to go like this?

"He was playing it smart, studying the target and making sure that when he struck, it was at her most vulnerable," the blonde-haired Terra spoke up, coming to the rescue like always. "He's more like an animal than you think. And animals only strike when they're sure it's a sure thing."

"So his animal instincts told him not to attack?" the Ravager leader asked skeptically. "Pull the other one. I bet he chickened out first. What about you? How'd things go on your end. I remember separating you two."

"For your information, I was in position to take mine out when she abruptly came to the rescue of their target," Terra retorted, gesturing over to Warblade and Phobia. "And since those two were in such a hurry to fight a two-on-two battle, which we've established by now they weren't, I thought it was the better course of action not to go in on a two-against-one fight, thank you very much."

That wasn't a bad reason, to be honest.

"Alright, everyone, shut up for a moment. I need to think about this."

With his order given, Warblade dived straight into planning. As far as he could tell, none of the people Brother Blood wanted dead were dead. That was a huge problem. But he had time. He could still do something about this. As long as this was taken care of, there would be no repercussions.

As long as they took what they had learned about these walking dead men and women, and used it to better effect for the next strike, this would go his way. Tonight could be written off as some sort of recon. Feeling these targets out. It didn't matter if they didn't have the element of surprise anymore. His Ravagers would conquer anything and anyone put before them.

Besides, it wasn't as if he was given a time limit for this.

"Mistakes were made," he said slowly, "But we can benefit from them. We can correct them. Everyone, share your knowledge of these walking corpses. What did you notice, how did they fight, what they can do. When we next meet them, there will be no failure."

Eyeing first the ankle-biters, then Phobia and Windstorm, he added, "And that isn't a request. It's an order."

Hmm, you know, just to be sure, he'd bring another veteran or two. Shore up any gaps in their offense. There was no telling if the ankle-biters were truly team players and he wanted no excuses next time.

And hey, didn't the green-skinned loser mention that he had met two of the targets before? Maybe he could use that for a plan.

A very fatal plan.


	10. The Art of Plotting

The Art of Plotting

Impatience was well known to Koriand'r. It was a trait that she had possessed as a child and it tended to occur at times that something undermined her when such undermining was unnecessary.

She felt that currently it was called for. She had spent an unknown amount of time on this planet and she had yet to gain access to one of its languages needed for communication and understanding. Every opportunity she had spied or come across had been too short-lived to be taken advantage of.

During the last nocturnal phase, she had found the opportunity she had been desiring. It had occurred during an act of violence, one of many that she had found during her exile here. Her...distaste for it caused her to keep her distance, not wanting to become more involved than she had wanted.

Except, she had begun noticing that such acts always left a member of this species vulnerable, enough that she could gain the lip contact she needed. How many times had she thrown her chance to accomplish this vital task before her away because of her discomfort? Most likely too many to count.

Thus, when she had come upon the incident with the oddly dressed male, it had been bizarre enough for her to halt her wanderings and observe. The male himself was young, virile, and on the losing side of the conflict. His opponent, whose only resemblance to this species was bipedalism, had the martial dominance. Time was running out for the young, colorful warrior.

To spare his life would require foreign intervention.

In conclusion, she intervened.

In return, the opportunity she had craved for so long had been literally in her hands. The tight-fitting garment she grasped prevented any escape that the male could seek. All she needed to do was lean her head forward and capture those nubile oral barriers.

For her efforts, she was confronted with frustration and denial, both of which arrived hand-in-hand. The one outcome she had not predicted had developed. At the last second, the male youth had shielded his face and she only met with an odd tasting cloth, which was not the part of the body she needed. There could be no lingual transfer there.

Once more she attempted, the second time was denied her as well. The strange creature whose intent was the termination of the lifeform she held had intervened and that opportunity, the one she was so desperate for, fled. She had called out in her native tongue, pleading with the male to remain while she dealt with this threat to his life for him. Naturally, he didn't understand and with fire detonating under his feet, he took to the skies.

To add further insult, the creature she was fighting also left the field of battle soon after. So she could not purge her frustration on it either. There was a term for this kind of thing on Tamaran, a _trokboet_. This situation was indeed a _trokboet_.

From whence came frustration, naturally impatience followed. So much time wasted in ignorance. So much knowledge was around her, but none of it did her any good because she couldn't understand it. A waste it was.

Once she had found herself alone, Koriand'r had ventured back to one of the establishments of nutritional consumption. This one in particular had a habit of serving charred pieces of meat sometimes accompanied with layers of vegetation or dairy byproducts and always with two slices of thick, baked flour dough. She could care less about most of it, but there was this odd, yellow-colored substance embedded in the consumable.

She did not know what this substance was or why it was used. All she knew and cared about was that it tasted fantastic. There was an acidic quality to it that she could not get enough of, and so she typically made her way to any of these eating establishments in the hope of finding more of it.

She was in luck this nocturnal phase. Discarded remains of that day's consumable servings had been placed in the large dumping container behind the establishment. Much to her delight, she found quite the feast of that yellow substance. Hopefully the pleasure from this consumption would calm her enough to think about her next move.

Desperate times were going to call for desperate measures. That much was obvious to her. If this situation continued as it was for any amount of time longer, the risk of ignorance would be outweighed by the risk of exposure to the force that frightened her Gordanian slavers. Resolution in this matter was paramount and any actions she took afterwards were wholly dependent on acquiring the correct language.

This time during the next nocturnal phase of this planet, she will either covertly accomplish her goal or she would reach it no matter the costs. Koriand'r knew which one she preferred, but it seemed as if her choice was being withheld.

It was a good reminder to her that the last time that had happened, she had slain one of those who had taken her choices away from her. A sobering reminder, but one needed to tell her the lengths to which she was capable.

* * *

Tim was still ashamed of how he ended things last night. He had run away like a coward, too much afraid for his life than that of the person who had come to his rescue. This was not a high point in his career as a vigilante. In fact, he couldn't remember being ever this low.

Even if she had been trying to force herself sexually on him, that didn't mean whoever she was deserved to die to that guy with the knives for fingers. How would he ever forgive himself for this?

The answer was, he couldn't. That was why he was spending so much time surfing the net, looking for anything on a dead body found in an alley. A part of him was glad that he hadn't found anything yet, but another part warned him that finding nothing meant squat. Remember Sebastian Clark? How long had he lain there until his corpse had been discovered by the Batclan?

An alley was a horrible place to be killed in, especially if no one checked around often. Plus all the crap left in such places could hide the stench of death for some time, until that horrible odor was able to overpower it.

If he wanted to be sure, he was going to have to go back there. However, right now, Tim was feeling very wary of that area. It couldn't be coincidence that he was attacked in front of the place that Barbara herself had picked out to hide his crime fighting stuff. Right now, he had his costume stuffed under his bed, fingers crossed that no one would go looking under it.

In the meantime, as a distraction, the guilt-ridden teen would focus on his real reason to be online. That being that damn fine-looking Amazon chick that had tracked him down last night. The thief with whom he was playing a game of cat-and-mouse with. Only, there was uncertainty of who was the cat and who was the mouse. Well, his turn to be the cat.

And as the cat, he had a starting point: the address he had taken down when he had followed that nameless girl to her base of operations. At least, that was the theory that home was a base. Otherwise, it could be her actual home.

First thing was first, who owed it. A search on the address and who claimed to live there brought up a few names, some living in different cities or states. Okay, refine search to Jump City. How had he forgotten to do that first? Alright, here was something.

Dr. Helena Sandsmark.

Who the hell was that?

A quick Google search gave him something. This Sandsmark lady was an archeologist. Studied under a big name, someone called Julia Kapatelis, and preferring not to go on a search tangent, Tim kept to Sandsmark. Most of the digs she participated in were Greek in nature. When she wasn't at digs, she was the curator of Gateway City's Museum of Antiquities. No wait, she was the former curator. She had left a couple years ago and headed to…

The answer was obvious. Sandsmark was in Jump City, involved with its own big museum that catered to ancient civilizations. Let's bring up a picture of this lady. Nope, not the gorgeous Amazon he faced on with. So who was the girl? Was she someone Sandsmark knew? Someone who was related or a friend? Or was it someone with less than honest intentions, using Sandsmark or staying in her home without her knowledge?

Real quick let's check out Sandsmark's social media. Hmm, alright, here was a post that she was going on another dig. That was dated several weeks ago. Meaning the female Indiana Jones was not in the states. Let's do a quick check on the kind of photos she posted. Obviously, some were going to be related to the dig. Hopefully, he could get a lead from her other postings.

About an hour later, he found something promising. It was a post from about a year ago, but it had Sandsmark with some colleagues of hers. There was also someone else in that photo, a much younger blonde girl. One who bore a resemblance to the thief. So there was a connection, or at the very least they knew one another. By that, knew of each other's existences at the minimum. Let's get a name if he could.

Half an hour later, Tim felt his brain was fried. For some ungodly reason, he could not find a name for this girl who was, in fact, showing up in a few more pictures. Too many to simply be a friendly face. They were acquaintances at the minimum.

But what the hell was her name?

It was like...it was like Sandsmark expected everyone to know who this was. Tim didn't! Why not put in some consideration for a new guy like him?

Crossing his arms and leaning back, Tim blew air through his lips, letting them flop with the forced out exhale. How much of his life had he wasted searching through a social media page? It was like throwing away hours, or brain cells, and he need those! The only way to really know everything to know about this woman through such means was to have been there from the beginning. And he wasn't in the mood to try and backtrack all these posts to her very first ones. For all he knew, those were Selfies, and everyone knew how helpful those were.

Hear the sarcasm there?

How did Barbara do this shit?

Glancing back at his computer screen, the burned out teen's eyes noticed a comments section for each post. Not a lot of comments, and who had the time for that outside of the most diehard fan? Except...didn't fans like that know everything?

Sitting up straighter, he continued that train of thought. If they knew everything, they might let something slip in one of their comments. So to find those little kernels of truth he would have to...read these comment sections.

Fuck.

He had nothing else to go by and he had no idea how Barbara did her searches for information. All Tim could do was make this up on his own because damn it, he did not want to impose on his friend anymore than he already had.

About another half hour later, still nothing. Most of these comments were either inane or so freaking cheerful that the teen became more negative in thought just to compensate for it, and every once in a while there was a troll comment. None of it gave him the information he wanted.

Giving up, the frustrated teen almost threw himself out of his chair. His last hope had not paid out. He was practically out of ideas, and in almost a fit of anger, he had left the current page he had been on, backtracking until he had stopped on a picture of Sandsmark and the thief. Who. Was. This. Person? Seriously!

That picture of the two sitting at a table at some restaurant, both leaning towards one another while holding bits of their respective meals in their hands taunted him. Hell, they were at one of those places that offered outdoor seating too. He had the sudden urge to punch that image, but had to stop himself because he might damage the computer and good luck with getting another one out of his folks.

For a while, his mind went blank, maybe as a way to preserve whatever was left of Tim Drake because all of this was so mind numbing. All the while that picture stared back at him. There was a time when it was all blobs of color, he paying that much attention to it. Then after blinking his eyes and snapping himself back into normal mode, the adolescent began spotting details in the picture.

Specifically, details of the thief. From a glance, she looked like a happy person, enjoying their time with this other person of whom her association with was still in question. Yet she didn't look happy despite the smile. Like, the smile was forced. As in, it was the kind of smile someone slapped on when getting their picture taken. Kids did that all the time because not even they could be happy all the time. And don't get him started on teenagers.

What were the odds they were mother and daughter? That would explain why even though the thief was smiling, she wasn't doing it out of happiness. Well, it was something to check out.

A few minutes later, he hit paydirt.

Cassie. Cassie Sandsmark. That was the thief's name. She was Helena Sandsmark's daughter. And now, Tim knew that. And lookie, lookie, Helena was watching Cassie's social media account, how typical of a parent.

Now that he was going through Cassie's account, he was becoming more and more sure that this was the person he was trying to hunt down. Cassie Sandsmark was that thief in the armor. He was sure of it. The two looked so much like one another, that he was ninety-nine percent certain they were one and the same.

Oh, and look, they...attended the same school? How? Tim was sure he would have noticed her at some point! How did a bombshell like her escape him in a place as boring as school? How?! Good God was he slipping in his observational skills.

Despite never seeing her, the pictures that she posted online always showed her having a good time, hanging out with other people, doing normal stuff. Except, in one image he could see a street sign, one that had the name of the street on it. Now, this was just a hunch, nothing really to go on, but might as well see.

Checking the name of the street and trying to find as close to the location as he could of where the photo was taken, Tim smirked as he saw how close it was in proximity to an address that was well known to him. After all, it was the address of the place he first met her and that didn't happen during the daylight. She was casing the place even as she spent time with her friends, whoever they may be.

This meant that so long as he kept tabs on her through social media, he'd be able to catch her in the middle of one of her heists. So she had an ego to match with her skills. That would be her downfall. All he needed to do was check on her latest posts and see if he couldn't figure out where she was. Then he'd be able to narrow down the area of where her next hit was.

Now he was in his element. Once he could plan out and place a trap, she would be at his mercy, and that would be the end to this investigation. Another crook off the streets.

Then he'd be free up to find whoever was trying to kill him and take them down as well.

* * *

Waiting was not one of Garfield's best traits. Like most people, he didn't like to wait. He liked to do, and forget about the consequences.

That last part tended to bite him more times than not.

Waiting was what he had to do, though. Warblade's orders. Windstorm needed to get his jaw fixed and other Ravagers were being brought in for the next big operation thingy. The green-skinned teen couldn't help but be brimming with energy over it. He was a part of something, even if most of the people involved didn't like him.

At least he had Terra. At least she didn't push him away like all the others. Was it any wonder he stuck to her side most of the time? He was a guy who needed to be around others and preventing him from doing that was like...like...like torture or something. Something really, really bad. Yeah.

The two of them were in their barracks again, Terra wanting little, if nothing, to do with the other Ravagers. It didn't matter to her that the orders to put them in this very important group came from Brother Blood himself—and he was a big deal around here, okay—she wanted as much distance between herself and everyone else as possible.

Since she was the only one willing to have him around, that meant he stayed with her even though he really, really, really wanted to try to get to know the other Ravagers better. They were going to be teammates from now on, right? Right. Just like one of those groups of superheroes, you know? There they were, on the front lines, trying to protect what was near and dear to them. And who better to protect than those who had gone out on a limb and taken them all in?

If there was one thing Garfield didn't like, it was owing other people. And he owed Brother Blood for saving him from...whatever it was. He didn't remember and didn't mind if he didn't. The fact that that great man had saved him, thought he was worth saving, it meant so much to the young teen.

Why Terra didn't seem to think the same confused him, but he wasn't about to pry. Why risk making the only person here so uncomfortable with him that she didn't want to be around him? Yeah, not gonna chance that. Nope.

Besides, have you even _seen_ Terra? She was very fine-looking. He didn't think it was obvious but he maybe, kinda sorta, had a...a...you know...a crush...on her. Yeah. That was a thing. She was very pretty, you know. And she smiled at him every once in awhile, and that was a _big_ thing, you know? Well, if you don't, you should.

Also, she was awesome when she started smashing things with her abilities to control the earth. Damn son, she could do some damage! And any girl who could do that was awesome. Right? Right!

So was it any surprise that he tended to open up to her the most? He would to Brother Blood, since, you know, the guy saved him and all, but he was busy. Like, really busy. And Garfield didn't want to bother him too much. Because that would be making a pest of himself.

Even though a lot of people around here said he was already a pest. What did they know?

Anyway, since last night, he had been brimming with energy. It wasn't just in anticipation for tonight. Warblade had a job for him—finally!—and he was eager to do it, but that was only part of it. Okay, most of it. The rest, though, was about something else.

See, he had followed both that guy and the girl from the blood bank, and guess what? He had followed them all the way to the girl's house! At least, he thought it was the girl's house. Could be anyone's really. Thing was, he hadn't told Warblade or any of the Ravagers, or even Brother Blood, about it. And he needed to tell someone. Because he was kinda bad at keeping secrets, not that he would tell anybody that.

Who better to tell than Terra? She would listen to him, right? And she wouldn't judge him too badly for not saying anything about it earlier, right?

Right?

So, he told her.

"Why didn't you mention that earlier?" Terra had said after a moment of silence, her eyes wide as saucers. The quiet that followed was ominous, as if all hell was about to unleash itself if one wrong move was done or said. Only a blind man would not be able to see how severe this could be.

For someone like Garfield, he was able to see it as well as a man trying to read a book twenty-five miles away and looking in the wrong direction.

"I was kinda put on the spot and I, uh, I guess I...forgot?" He scratched the back of his boyishly, adding an uncertain chuckle at the end of it.

After a moment, "Gar, whatever tolerance Warblade had for me, I used up defending you last night. If he ever finds out about it, we're both going to be in for it—HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID?!"

Flinching back, the green-colored teen bunched up his shoulders and lowered his head, completely taken by surprise. Terra looked really, really mad and it was all directed at him. He had never seen her like this and was it him or was everything beginning to shake—oh crap it was!

"Terra, easy there," he tried to calm her down. He raised a hand up but pulled it back slightly, unsure if she would be able to handle it. Her eyes were almost purely yellow, which in itself was frightening because that meant she was really dipping into her powers. She must really be worried or mad or, or, or, okay he couldn't think of anything else she could be feeling. Feelings weren't his strong point, not really.

However, as if realizing her control was slipping, the blonde-haired girl got a grip and began taking in long, deep breaths, calming herself. Garfield watched, not daring to breathe himself because damn, for once _he_ had made _her_ mad. Not that she went around making him mad or anything. It was just that other people seemed to do that to her, never him. This was a very new experience for him.

"Garfield." Oh no, she was using that name, his full name. "I'm only going to tell you this once. What you told me you can't tell anyone else. Do you understand?" The tone of voice she used was so soft, almost a whisper that at the same time was so sharp it could slice someone in half if they weren't careful.

Garfield was never one to be careful either.

"Why?"

"Do you know how many people here would love to catch the two of us fucking up here? You forgetting to report such important intel like knowing where one of those people we're suppose to kill lives is a _very_ important piece of information that should have been mentioned a long time ago. Like _before_ I came to your rescue when you told our glorious leader you did not pick a fight with your target. That would have been a great time to tell him that."

Now that she mentioned it, that was a very good point. Huh, why hadn't he thought of that?

"And now, he thinks that you're incompetent enough to the point that you can't follow orders. At all. You, me by proxy, are on thin ice right now, and all it will take is one wrong move and we both go down. End of story," Terra finished explaining, learning towards him and getting closer and closer with each word she said. By now, their faces were close, like inches away. Never had her willingly get her face that close to his. Like ever.

"But Brother Blood wouldn't let him—" he tried to argue only for Terra to interrupt him.

"There's only so much that Blood will do to protect us, and right now, this is _not_ covered by that. He finds out you withheld important information, whatever Warblade will do to you will be a walk in the park compared to what Blood will do."

A frown creased the green male's face. "But Brother Blood saved me, us. Both of us! Why would he try to hurt us for a mistake? I genuinely forgot. I'm sorry. I don't do well when I get put on the spot like that." Okay, even to him that last part sounded like he was whining.

"Gar, I've told you before that I don't trust that guy, even if he did...save me. Save the both of us. I just got this feeling. Like he's keeping us around because he has some use for us, some use neither of us know and once we stop being useful, he'll get rid of us." It was a little hard to tell because of the short distance between their faces, but Terra really looked worried about this.

"But isn't that what we need to do? To repay him for all he's done for us?" Garfield felt the need to ask.

"I don't know about you, but having us go out to bring back fresh blood does not sit well with me," Terra admitted.

And Terra told him she got queasy about it. Odd thing was, so did he, but he had never voiced that out, not even to her. At least, one of them needed to be the strong one and since Terra did so much for him already, he figured this was one time he needed to bite the bullet. Since they both had problems with getting fresh blood, it had been his idea to go for a blood bank because that place had to have a lot of fresh blood, right? Right, that was what his logic told him.

"It's a little weird, but we owe him. We have to pay him back. That's what people do, right?" He felt like he really needed to press this point home. He had no idea why either, but it felt important enough for him to do.

"Gar, one of these days I'll have paid him back and then I'm gone. I don't want to be around here, especially with a guy like Warblade being one of Blood's favorites," Terra replied.

Well, okay, he had to give that one to her. There was something about the leader of the Ravagers that even put him on edge, and he liked to be around people.

"And I hope on that day, you'll come with me too," Terra added, finally pulling her face away from his, but grabbing his hand all the same. "You're the only person I like being around this place with and...I guess I'd miss you too much. So…"

Now that she was putting it that way, it was tempting. Really. And he also liked being around her too.

"So please, keep what you told me to yourself. Don't even think about it, alright? We keep our heads down, do what we need to do, and when we've done all we can to pay Blood back, we can leave with a clean slate. Okay?" Terra finished, squeezing his hand now.

Boy, he could stare into those blue eyes for...for a long time. "Okay," he said, or that might have slipped out of his mouth without his consent. Hard to know. His face was really warm and it felt like his heart was hammering in his chest. Was it hot in here suddenly? When did that happen?

"Say it right," Terra insisted. "Promise me."

"I...I promise," he finally said.

"Good," the slighter girl said, her lips curving into a very pretty smile and making her look all the better for it.

The idea of leaving didn't seem so bad anymore.

* * *

Warblade had left the ankle-biters out intentionally. This was for the pros, and no matter what Blood wanted, the Ravagers were his team. Only the best and only the ones worthy of the honor were true Ravagers.

To make up for what little the rookies had so far offered, he had summoned two others of his elite team to join. The first was an addition of brawn that was sorely needed on the team. A giant among those who were assembled, Two pairs of muscular arms were crossed over some impressive looking pecs and a rack of abs. Instead of the normal two eyes one would expect, four white eyes stared stoically from a not too pretty face.

As if not caring for clothes, all this professional Ravager wore was a pair of torn up pants and nothing else. Most likely to show off that body that made the knife-happy leader a little jealous. Okay, a lot jealous.

And of course, his name was Goliath.

Pretty much summed up this four-armed hulk.

The other was a really special one. His ace in the hole. A person that Brother Blood had pulled all the stops to obtain if only because what she was capable of was much too valuable to leave alone. Femme Fatale did not do her justice, though she had the curves, the dark wavy wave that covered one sharp, brown eye, and an ample bosom that invited all to...squeeze. She was a good fighter, was almost up to his skill.

However, it wasn't her fighting abilities that made her so coveted by Blood. No, it was what she could do with a touch. Even now it was unknown how she did this, but by a simple touch of her skin, she could kill you. A bad date in a pretty package if there ever was one. To this day, though, he wondered why she was called Wanderer. It made sense to her, but to him he was lost.

Well, she could call herself whatever she wanted because there was no arguing with that kind of power.

Even if the ankle-biters held them back, there was no way that the Ravagers would be returning empty handed. A glance towards the haughty for no reason Phobia and then to a pissed off Windstorm who's broken jaw was now fixed up concluded his quick examination of them.

It was now seven to four.

Five of that seven were gathered in his personal quarters, where he could keep this as secret as possible. The two new additions had taken the only chairs in here, forcing the rest to stand up. Neither he nor Windstorm minded, but Phobia sure did since she was holing herself up in a corner, sending dark looks to the sitting pair. It made him want to laugh, but he didn't. Still, he smiled at it, said smile hidden by his mask that he hadn't taken off.

"Wanderer, Goliath, glad you could join us. Our mutual Brother has given us an important job to do. He wants four dead and he wants them dead as soon as possible. And we're going to be the ones to make him happy," Warblade declared.

"Who are the marks?" the accented voice of Wanderer spoke, bringing them down to business. He had no idea what kind of accent it was, it sounded Spanish but not quite. Though her tone was flat, you could hear anticipation in it.

"Two guys, two girls. One broke Windstorm's jaw and he's not happy about it. Another was able to break Phobia's little spell, so they're not going to be easy. Thanks to the resident green bean, all I know about the third is that she can fight animals. The last one is barely a threat. Had it not been for a freaky chick, he'd be dead and I wouldn't have called for you two."

Warblade could feel Goliath direct those four soulless eyes on him. "You have already failed," the giant stated.

"Not for long," the Ravager leader corrected. "They can't hide from us forever. We will find them again."

"Oh yes, but how?" Phobia just had to pipe up. "How do you intend to find them once more?"

There was a "oh glorious leader" left unsaid, but he knew she was mocking him.

She was going to regret it, especially when he put her on the spot. "How did that one target break your illusion again? Do tell."

The arrogant bitch's eyes narrowed more than they already were, glaring at him. "She got lucky," she said snappishly.

"I don't care that she did it, but _how_ she did it. Was it some kind of special ability or was it magic?" Warblade pressed her for more detail.

"The only thing that could break my illusions would have to be magic," Phobia stated haughtily. "And since I wasn't expecting it, it is only natural that she was able to break it as easily as she did."

"And would you remember what that kind of magic felt like?"

The twit who thought she was better than everyone paused as she considered the question. After a moment, she answered in a more normal tone of voice, "I might be able to. There was something about that magic that…it doesn't feel like normal magic. It's like its own kind, one of a kind even."

Now to go in for the kill, metaphorically. "And is there a chance you could follow it back to its source, even after all the time that has been passed since it was first casted?"

Now she was biting her pretty little lip, a nasty habit for a gal of her looks to do. Definitely a sign that he had taken her out of her element. "Theoretically…"

"None of that," he interrupted. "Can you or can you not find her by her one of a kind magic? Yes or no?"

"I would need to return to the site where the magic was first cast, but it should be doable," Phobia finally gave him a straight answer, though she didn't look happy at him forcing her hand.

"Good, if those two stuck together, we'll be able to find two of the four," the Ravagers' leader announced.

"I can't wait," Windstorm growl, punching a fist into the palm of his other hand. "I owe that asshole a jaw and several broken bones."

"Actually, I want Goliath on that one. He has the strength and durability to handle what that guy will dish out," Warblade stated.

"He's mine!" Windstorm fired back, snarling.

"You were calling for my help after one hit. Goliath would be a better match," Phobia agreed, surprising the masked leader but not for long. No, she was trying to get a reaction, touting how inferior someone else was.

"You stay out of it," Windstorm turned on the bitch.

"It's final," Warblade ordered. "Now before we get into a pissing contest, let's go over the other two."

"Do you have any ideas on how to locate these targets?" Wanderer asked, ensuring that the planning session stayed on track.

At first, he was going to say no, he didn't, did any of you guys have any ideas? Before he could, the proverbial light bulb turned on in his head.

"I have the inklings of one," he said slowly, trying to make it work in his head.

"Oh, do tell," Phobia said mockingly.

"The ankle-biters had a shot at them once," he continued, ignoring the barb. "One of them turns into animals. He'll be able to sniff them out…"

"And bring us to them," Wanderer finished for him.

Warblade wanted to say yes, but he stopped himself. "No, other way around."

"Huh?" Looks like he lost Windstorm. Then again, thinking was not his strength.

"He's met those two before. What are the odds he could bring them to us?" Warblade asked aloud. "If he can piss them off enough that they don't think, we can get them into an ambush."

"Strike them down before they can defend themselves," Wanderer again summed up for him. He definitely had her interest now.

"If we do it right, we can herd them together in one place then go all out, no holding back, and kill them all. Heh. Looks like those ankle-biters might be able to pull their weight around for once."

* * *

Author's note: Wanderer and Goliath are both DC characters, they've part of a group called the Council of Spiders, which ShadowMajin introduced me to. And surprise, surprise, Tim Drake was the lucky person who had to deal with them. So, to round out the Ravagers squad, I've appropriated them. Now things should get really interesting next chapter.


	11. Attack of the Aloadae

Attack of the Aloadae

Just because you witness someone cast a magic spell didn't mean that you could automatically use it like some loose thread and follow it back to its source. It was more complex than Warblade believed it to be. Yet he was expecting her, the all-powerful Phobia to act as a bloodhound who sniffed for spells.

If he wanted a tracking animal, use that green pest to literally become one. Such a task was beneath her.

Unfortunately, Warblade outranked her, as galling as that was, so she had no choice but to bow to his whims. For now.

At the very least, she had more preferable company in the form of Goliath. He wasn't all bravado and macho as Windstorm who seemed the need to rub his manliness all over the place. So it was blissfully silent. However, Windstorm made up for his deficiencies with his looks whereas Goliath was the complete opposite. An equivalent exchange if there ever was one.

Starting from where the beautiful young woman had last seen the two targets, Phobia had done a magical scan of the area and much to her surprise and annoyance, there was some residual elements of that scene still here. The basics of her powers were indeed magical, and this was pretty basic to do, finding the taint of another person's magics.

Briefly, Phobia wondered if this other spellweaver had a specialty, like herself. She hadn't taken up the name Phobia for no reason. She found that tapping into a person's fears and doubts, and using illusions to exacerbate them was where she excelled. She also gained a sort of pleasure from watching her prey destroy themselves while she had but to raise a finger to cast her web of terror.

Like all things, though, it got boring after awhile. Only a few special ones would stick with her. The rest were mundane, relegated to being forgotten like so many other unimportant and inferior souls.

For once, her abilities and skills were being tested. Some would rise to the challenge, eager to prove themselves in the endeavor. She wasn't that type of person. This was so abnormal to her, and she directed her hatred both to the targets and Warblade for forcing her into this position.

With Goliath as a silent but present force that urged her on, Phobia had to meet this challenge like all others. With disdain and disgust. Let's get this over with like an unwanted bowel movement. Necessary but loathed.

That was odd. The elegant Ravager was picking up the remains of her spell as well, yet for some reason it was heavily overshadowed by the other brand of magic. It was as if the target she was hunting was more powerful that her. No, no she wasn't. Because the spell she herself had cast was a normal one, one that did not require a lot of power in the first place.

It did get her wondering what she could do if she went full power. If that was the case, then the target would not stand a chance, simple as that. Perhaps this exercise would not be a waste of her talents after all. How often did an opportunity to show the world what you were truly capable come around?

Ignoring the remnants of her power, she focused on the other magic. It was primarily focused right here, about where the other target that had given Windstorm such a problem stood. Almost like a blob, it coated the area. How uncouth. The caster of this spell was a powerhouse type and didn't seem to know how to hold back, using the minimal amount for maximum effect. Phobia almost bared her teeth at this knowledge, more eager to find this little witch.

Now let's see… Through her mind's eyes, the residual of the girl's magic was black and a lot like sludge. Sludge stuck to you if you stepped on it. There should be a trail then, somewhere around her.

With lazy steps, she strolled through the area, searching, searching… Where, oh where, did you go, little plaything? She had so much horror to bestow onto you…

There!

As thick as the target's magic had been, the trail it left behind was easily noticeable now. It led out of this park, never weakening the further it drew away.

Why did Warblade have to be right about this of all things?

"Inform our leader that I found the trail," she told her four-armed comrade. "We will update him once we locate our prey."

Goliath did not so much as grunt as he raised a massive hand up to where she believed an ear to be. That repulsive head of his was so smooth that it was difficult to make out earlobes.

In the meantime, she would find the little pretties and once discovered would make true their titles as Ravagers and ravage them beyond an inch of their lives.

* * *

As night fell over the city, Tim made his final preparations. He was ready for this, was ready for most of the day. He could feel that something was going to go down, and if he had planned things correctly, it was going to be great.

The plan was simple, let her come to him, knock the thief off her game with the knowledge he had on her, then take her down hard. The look she would have on her face when he said her real name was going to be awesome, something he wished he could take a picture of. If he wasn't so worried about getting it broken no matter how accidental, he would have stuffed his phone in his utility belt.

He didn't. Like the computer, there was a good chance his folks wouldn't get him another so quickly.

Now why was he going to let her come to him? Well, she had tracked him down last night, and then she kept getting too close. That bombshell of a blonde had to have some way to hunt someone, and only her frustrations at missing him had stopped her from pressing forward. If she could do it once, she could do it again.

That meant that the teen vigilante could pick the battleground first. To try and minimize collateral damage, it would have to be on another rooftop. The one he selected was pretty open, allowing him a chance to escape if he needed to, not that he would this time.

Going through what he had on him, he almost groaned that he was at half capacity, so to speak. The teen did not dare go back and restock, not so long as that person with the knives for fingers was still running around. Restraint would be needed. A shame, he only had like three or four of his explosive projectiles on him. His boots needed to be refueled so no sudden take offs. At least his cape was ready for action, the disc-shaped clasp on his chest having enough charge in it to still be useful.

There was a grapple he could use if he needed to hit hard. Hopefully that armor offered enough protection for that kind of thing. Let's see, what else? Huh, a smoke bomb. Forgot about that. Hmm. That pocket was empty. Not good. Oh, here were a few non-explosive projectiles. They weren't disc-shaped but...Barbara had a long memory. Looked like an upgraded version of his homemade "birdarangs." Wow, it had been a while since he last used these.

You know, he could use something else, like another weapon. Not batons or escrima sticks like Dick used. That was that guy's thing, you know? Definitely not a samurai sword or a crossbow. Didn't know how to use either of those things anyway. What about a staff? But didn't Huntress use one herself? Huh, trying to be original was tough, wasn't it?

Tim may have gotten a little lost in thought, and maybe for a little too long. The crunching of gravel went unnoticed, but the arm that wrapped around his neck and pulled him back was noticed. Hands instinctively grabbed onto the limb and the internally swearing teen was trying to balance his body as he bent his knees to better handle the new angle his back was placed into.

"You really should pay more attention, Red," the blonde-haired thief chuckled into his ear. "I was expecting more of a fight out of you."

Damn, not even five seconds in. A new low, and Dick and Barbara must never know about this.

"I think I'm doing fine," he grunted out as he tried to pull down on the arm. Not even a budge. Right, this gal was stronger than she looked.

"Who you trying to kid? Me or yourself?" The thief spun them around, Tim scrambling to make sure his feet were planted on a flat surface when she stopped.

"I'm full of surprises," he quipped instead.

"Said the guy who's making this up as he goes," was the retort. A tightening of the arm around his neck was another unwelcomed response.

"That coming from the girl who's trying to strangle me? What's your grand plan? Try to kill me? That it?" he choked out. That arm was starting to restrict his breathing. Not good, especially since he needed to talk right now. That also required use of his neck and vital air ways.

"Nah, maybe some broken bones. Something to keep you out of my hair for a while," came the reply.

"That's it? That's why you're changing things up?" Why that question coming out of him, he did not know.

"Well, I can't let you keep ruining my hobby all the time."

"Why not make it permanent, then? I'll heal from broken bones in time, and when I do I'm going to come after you again."

How little of her body was pressing up behind him, the vigilante did not know, but he could feel a stillness in her. This was more prominent in her arm, of which he was becoming very good friends with.

"I guess we'll get to that when we get to it," the thief answered at last, body relaxing slightly while maintaining the hold. Not even an inch given there. "If I have to break all your bones to do it, then so be it. Hope you like body casts, big boy."

"You know what that sounds like to be? It sounds like you're not a killer, Cassie."

There, he was throwing the die. Time to see who he was dealing with and open up an opportunity to take advantage of.

Cassie stilled again, though froze would have been a better way to describe it. Unlike the earlier one, this was a bit more ominous. "Where'd you hear that name?" she growled.

"Your Facebook account. I've seen your face before, I know what you look like, who you are, Cassie Sandsmark," Tim continued. "You really should think about getting some kind of mask."

"I did have a mask and you're the one who messed it up," Cassie snapped. Oh no, her arm was tightening again. "You better not know where I live, twerp."

His silence was more than an answer.

"You can't be serious." That was stated, not asked.

"You don't...exactly...make an effort…to cover your...tracks." He was really starting to choke now.

"You should have kept quiet, Red. Since you brought it up, I think killing you is now an option." Her voice was like stone, hard and uncompromising.

"You didn't...consider...it...before. Not once." He lowered one of his hands from her arm, letting it fall towards his belt. "All...you do...is steal. And break stuff. Never...knew...you had it...in you...to kill."

"I'm just full of surprises." The arm was tightening more. "I wonder how long it will take for me to choke you. I think that'll do fine."

"Wonder...all you...like, girl." He pulled out a nonexplosive throwing projectile. He was going to need that edge, which he used to slice up her upper arm. Cassie gave a cry of surprise, the strength in her arm weakening enough that he was able to slip his oh so precious neck out of it. Stumbling away, he took up a defensive pose, his upgraded birdarang held in front of him. "I intend to keep my head," he rasped out.

Examining the long, red scratch that ran along her upper arm, Cassie's sharp, blue eyes targeted him, and man there was some anger in them. "If I had any doubts before, they're all gone. You are dead, Red."

"We'll see about that," he retorted.

And they would, the two of them. Just not in the way either of them expected.

That may have had to do with round, green ball that struck Cassie on the back of her head, knocking her forward a step. She kept on her feet, even as the ball bounced back and began to unroll into...was that an armadillo? Weren't those things supposed to be gray? And where did it come from?

"What—is that…?" Her anger was redirected from the vigilante, becoming confusion as she spotted what hit her.

"Aw, don't look so surprised. You two looked like you were having fun and I wanted to join in."

Reality was becoming questionable as Tim could have sworn he heard, and saw, that armadillo speak. That was impossible, because armadillos did not speak. At all. Gave squeaks, but speak? Nope.

"Did you just talk?" Cassie unwittingly gave voice to his unspoken question.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" the armadillo asked back.

"Because armadillo's don't speak!" That was a borderline shriek there.

"Oh, right, forgot about that." The weird part, the armadillo sounded genuine. "Say, maybe this will be better." Then things became...weirder. That was the best way to put it. The armadillo stopped being an armadillo and shifted into a massive gorilla. Hold the phone, _what_?

Apparently, Cassie was also shocked, long enough that the green-colored ape was able to wrap its large arms around her and pick the girl off her feet. To Tim's horror, this thing, this animal-shifting thing, opened its mouth and leaned forward, sticking the helpless girl's face into the orifice.

 _It was eating her face!_

Then there was the smack as the creature pulled its head back, the armored blonde's face drenched in saliva. Eyelids shielded blue eyes, the warrior female completely still as her feet dangled in the air.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" the gorilla-thing teased.

To the teenaged vigilante's surprise, Cassie opened her eyes, not appearing to be harmed in anyway. So...so this thing wasn't trying to eat her face. In the most literal way, of course. And why was he feeling a little jealous of that?

In the most dead tone of voice he ever heard, the way-too-calm Cassie said, "You are so dead."

In a feat of strength that he had not truly expected, the armored girl revealed that she didn't just look like a warrior and broke the gorilla's hold by shoving its arms apart. Barely a second later, a metal-clad fist was whistling through the air to deck a meaty gorilla face.

Only it missed as the gorilla changed its form once more, zipping around the furious girl as a...a hummingbird? That didn't last long as it shifted again into a much larger bird. Either a falcon or a hawk, Tim wasn't too sure. Knowing different types of avians had not been on his list of things to look up.

"Get back here!" Cassie roared as she spun around in the air. Yeah, in the air. Because only now did he realize that the armored girl's feet had not returned to the rooftop but remained hovering in the air.

Let him get this straight. Not only did this girl have some kind of super strength, but she could fly too? That…that...that was crazy! She was way too OP, _way too OP_! What was she, some kind of armor-wearing, girl version of Superman?

She...didn't have x-ray vision, did she?

While Tim was busy dropping his jaw and trying to wrap his mind around this whole thing, the green-colored bird was laughing suicidally at the enraged female. "Oh come on! Can't you take a joke?"

"Oh, I'll show you a joke! My fist, up your ass, through your mouth, like my arm was a skewer for a shish-ka-bob!" Cassie roared as she charged.

Unsurprisingly, the bird flew up and away, calling out a challenge in its wake. "Gotta catch me first!"

" _Bastard!_ " And now she was up, up, and away. Wait, she was getting away. Out of the place Tim had carefully chosen to be the area he finally took her down. And it was because she was chasing a shape-shifting bird that always stayed green.

Maybe it was stubbornness or stupidity, but there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen.

Activating his glider cape, he gave chase after both of them, flapping his arms—ironically enough—like a bird to get some altitude. After that, it was coasting as he flew through the air, doing his best to catch up. Behind his mask, he narrowed his eyes because whatever material it was made up, it did not give him the best protection from dirt and dust particles in the air. Looks like something else needed an upgrade.

Up ahead, he could see the red and gold figure that was Cassie Sandsmark, though it was a bit tougher to spot the bird seeing as its green color helped it to blend in a little with the night. Below, buildings rushed past the trio, easily ignored.

How much longer would this last? Tim hadn't tested his cape for such long term use, only short distances and the longest by far had only been done last night. He had no idea how long he could keep himself up in the air. Even now, gravity was pulling him down and he had flap his arms down periodically like a bird would to keep himself up in the air. The longer this went on, the more worried he became of his own capabilities and less on keeping up with the other two participants.

Without warning, the green falcon/hawk decreased its altitude, angling downward sharply. He was heading down to the streets. Not into an alley, because from here, Tim could see that there was a large amount of space between the scattered buildings. What was down there?

Predictably, Cassie followed right after the bird, not a thought given. The flying vigilante, on the other hand, aimed for one building's ledge. He might as well have a high vantage point to observe what was going on and intervene at the right moment.

He had only just deactivated his cape and was peering over the ledge, watching as the armored blonde was closing in on their taunting avian, when a pillar of earth broke through the concrete pavement of a basketball court and struck the flying girl in the head. Her body changing direction radically, Cassie was thrown back and into a building, the very one Tim himself was standing on, crashing through the outer wall and disappearing from sight.

Normally, the masked teen would have had his jaw dropping at the sight, yet this was familiar to him. He had seen this before, not too long ago in fact. It was at the blood bank, where he had constantly rolled out of the way as rock had broken through the floor. With that in mind, it was almost like this pillar of earth had uppercutted Cassie, like this was an intentional attack.

And now, way too late, did his gut scream at him that something about this wasn't right.

Then he was hit in the back and sent falling over the ledge.

Immediately, he activated his cape again, doing his best to slow himself down. As if he wasn't in danger enough, another earth pillar pierced through the concrete slab below, trying to hit him too. Tilting to his right, he managed to glide out of the way only to find a new danger as the side of a nearby building was rushing towards him in greeting.

Keep turning!

In a literal downward spiral, he glided down onto the damage basketball court. Deactivating his cape, he landed on his feet and went into a roll so as to spread the shock of his landing throughout his body. Nailed it.

The sound of two hands clapping directed his attention towards a small, blonde-haired girl—hey, she was the one from the blood bank, wasn't she? That was the same ratty getup she had last time. Beside her, crouched on the ground was a green-colored person this time, and unlike her, he wasn't wearing a shirt. When she finished clapping she patted the boy on his head like he was her pet, or something like that.

There was something about that green skin...why wasn't he putting two and two together yet?

"Dude, that was awesome. Sure, Terra missed, but man, have to give props," the boy spoke and it was the same voice that the armadillo/gorilla/bird had being using. Oh, now he got it. It was a guy who could shapeshift, though for some reason everything he turned into was green. A little weird, but he had had experience with fighting wild animals before. Nothing to be too nervous about, right?

"Uh, thanks?" he said, because that compliment needed to be acknowledged. Right?

"I'd give it a four out of ten."

Okay, body was freezing up right now, and that was because he knew this new voice that wasn't so new. Jerking his head around, he found the guy with knives for fingers, arms crossed over his chest while the mask he wore was positively glowing.

Alright, this was starting to look like a trap...which made that whole chase earlier make more sense. Aw man, did that mean…? Shit. Why didn't he think about that sooner!

"Nice seeing you again," the masked blade-wielder continued. "I've been dying to smear your blood all over the place. This time, you won't be escaping."

"That right?" Tim retorted, a hand drawing near his belt. It had been a good thing he had done inventory earlier. He knew about the smoke bomb he had on his person, and if he used it right…

A gust of wind from behind blew his cape in front of him, hiding both his hand and belt. That seemed like a stroke of good luck there. At least, it did for a bit, as then there was a loud impact nearby, signaling that someone else had arrived.

Holding back a groan, the vigilante darting his eyes to this newcomer and almost stared as he found what looked like a guy made completely of metal pushing himself off the pavement. Don't tell him, did these guys have a robot too? Kinda odd how this newbie was rubbing his head and muttering to himself that was the last time he went flying. No context for that.

But wait, there was more. There was another loud impact, this one louder than the one before it. Like an amateur, he turned his head in the other direction and found that there was a small crater in the ground, a cloaked person crouching in the middle of it. Didn't seemed to be hurt, though this person was wobbling as they stood up.

At the edge of a crater was a guy with...were those four arms? Freaky. Oh, and over there, there was a blond guy in blue and black touching down. So, that brought the count up to—one, two, three, four, five, six—six unknown guys and gals and here he was all by his lonesome. Surrounded, crap.

"Looks like we're all here," the masked blade fanatic crowed. "Now we can get this started. Everyone, I want four dead bodies when we finished up. Have some fun but don't drag it out for too long."

* * *

Victor was beginning to feel like he had done or offended someone up above, because he had been having a lot of bad luck lately. Was it when he picked a fight with those guys harassing Rachel? Almost becoming another victim of a cop shooting? The windy guy attacking for no reason? The psychic stuff? What had he done to deserve all that?

He and Rachel had only found a new place to spend the night when the wall caves in, a guy with way too many arms grabs him and throws him out. The air starts acting funny, meaning the wind guy was back, and now he was here in a b-ball court that was starting to look like it had seen better days.

Next thing he knows, a ball of pure black strikes the ground from above, before dissolving to reveal Rachel in all her dark and goth glory. Four Arms lands behind her, and Wind Guy makes his reappearance. But hold on, Victor, there was more!

There was a talker, also in a mask that had a glowing face and what was up with those hands? How did he pick up anything with them? There was a homeless girl standing nearby, and a guy colored green crouching right next to her. So she wasn't some random person then. Lastly, there was someone else decked out in red, black, and yellow with a superhero mask and a cape.

Not going to ask any questions here. This was...he didn't know where to begin with all this.

"Let round two begin!" roared the glowing face mask guy as he rushed towards superhero cape guy, those finger knives slashing through the air.

"You're mine, asshole!" Wind Guy shouted as he too launched himself at the cybernetic teen.

And that figured too, didn't it? Things were getting out of hand, there were too many people, and Victor could not say for certain what the hell was going on. What he did know was that he was going to have to fight for his life, or what you could call a life.

As Wind Guy was barreling in on him like a torpedo, a wall of inky black sprung up between them. Victor gave a wince as Wind Guy smacked face first into it and was catapulted back for all his trouble. Good one, Rachel. He didn't have to look to know she was responsible for that.

The guy in red and black came into view, narrowly avoiding grinning face's slashes and stabs. Didn't look like he was doing too bad of a job; he could handle that guy.

A loud clacking sound was closing in on him, and it was accompanied by the sound of snort. Turning to both of those sounds, he found what looked like some kind of ram with large horns coming out of its head. Annoyingly, the computer part of his body informed him that was a Bighorn Sheep, a creature native to North America and—

And that creature native to North America very appropriately rammed him, surprisingly sending him flying back. His impromptu flight was canceled as he was clotheslined from behind by Four Arms, and now he laid face first on the pavement.

Despite all that, as he raised his head up, all he could say was, "Those aren't green."

Two hands on his shoulders picked him up and spun him around. While those two hands remained on his shoulders, two more began wailing on him, first in the torso then abruptly his head. The head took a bit more damage, especially the flesh and bone part. He gave grunts, in particular when a meaty fist struck him on that very vulnerable part of his head.

Next thing he knew, he was being smashed onto the pavement, picked up again, and thrown right back down once more. Getting tired of this, Victor raised his head up just enough to catch sight of a pair of legs in front of him. Throwing an arm forward, he swiped those legs off the ground and let the body they held up fall. Now Four Arms was on his back, but before the cybernetic teen could take advantage, there was a rumble rushing towards him.

Looking back, his still human eye widened as a rhino was running at him, full speed. And why was it green colored? And why was he picking up these details that didn't matter right now?

Then said details had to crash his grasp on reality when some blonde girl in armor attacked from the rhino's side and changed its trajectory. The large animal ended up barreling part him, but Victor was still trying to process the bizarre sight.

A large hand interrupted that processing, and Four Arms brought his ugly mug into view. "Focus on the fight," he growled, raising one of his arms up and punching it forward.

In response, Victor brought up an arm and blocked the blow, a solid ringing sound echoing. With his other arm, he decked this spider-like male and sent him rolling away.

"Good advice," he grunted as he picked himself up.

* * *

"Get out of my way!" the wind manipulator roared as he unleashed a storm of wind at her. Rachel, unfazed, conjured a black, spherical shield around her, weathering the attack with ease.

Knowing that Victor was having his hands full dealing with an individual who had more hands than were necessary, she figured she could relieve the pressure off him by taking this blond loudmouth off his mind.

The loudmouth didn't like this. Not that Rachel particularly cared what he liked.

This wouldn't be too bad, dealing with only wind, except there was an earth manipulator around here too. Large chunks of rock did not rise out of the ground by themselves, nor did they have the agency to launch themselves at her of their own volition. Knowing such physical objects would require more concentration to maintain her shield, she engaged in evasive maneuvers.

Whoever this earth manipulator was, they didn't have too much skill at it. As soon as each rock missed her, it struck the ever tarnishing concrete slab below here and was left there in favor of summoning a new one. A waste of resources right there.

The wind manipulator attempted to take advantage of her distraction and came at her with a conal shaped spear of wind wrapped around his arm, stabbing it into her shield with murderous intent. The dark energies absorbed the attack, wind only being the rapid movement of air molecules anyway, so too much effort was not needed.

Snarling, the blond wind manipulator stabbed again and again, trying to pierce the shield in and way possible that he could. The repeated strikes were beginning to test her, but it was still nothing she could not handle.

Slipping to aside, she dispelled the shield and allowed the furious blond to slip right by her. With a hand held up, she fired a black blast of her powers into his side, throwing him away as he cried out.

Highly honed instincts alerted her to another attack, this one from below. Unlike the storm of air she had combated, a storm of stone was closing in on her. No way to dodge that, but she wasn't out of options yet. Shooting a ball of black into the grouping of flying rocks, she detonated it and created an opening in the earthly wave. Rachel remained floating in the air as the rocks whizzed past her harmlessly.

"Aah!" she cried out as whoever the earth manipulator was, they could learn. Instead of letting their attack fly by harmlessly, they had reeled the rocks back. Unfortunately, Rachel just had to be in the way, and a very oddly-shaped rock was running itself into her spine.

The force was carrying her back down to the ruined basketball court below. Snapping open eyes she had closed seconds before, the optical organs glowed a harsh black, and a wave of her mystical energies blasted away the flying rubble attacking her.

"I'm not done with you, bitch!" the wind manipulator screamed, propelling himself at her with a continuous firing of wind.

In the seconds before he reached her, Rachel was able to assess the situation. She was fighting a two-front battle against two elementals, both opposites in their physicality. Unfortunately, as history has shown, fighting two fronts at the same time never ended well. She was going to have to eliminate or incapacitate one of these manipulators so she could focus on which was the greater threat.

Since the user of wind was not only known to her, but also eager to constantly throw himself back into the fray, screaming his lungs out all the while, he looked like the first volunteer.

* * *

This was a familiar dance to Tim. It was one he had not wanted to take part in again, but what could you do? The maniac who was trying to rip him into many teeny, tiny pieces was very insistent about being his dance partner again so he really had no choice in the matter.

Dance metaphor aside, the masked teen was doing his best not to become skewered on those wicked knife fingers. To the left, the right, left, right, always on the cutting edge of being cut. Literally. The guy was not playing around, and if he wasn't careful—whoa!

Almost cut it too close there.

Once again activating his cape, he used it to shield himself from all the strikes. Again, there were the loud shrieks of the blades scratching against the hardened surface, and much to Tim's relief, the cape held.

"Is that all you're going to do?" the grinning masked attacker sneered. "Can't you show me something new?"

He wanted something new? Fine. Tensing the muscles in his right arm, the vigilante swung the arm, slashing with his hardened cape as he used it as an unorthodox weapon. The grinning goon pulled back, narrowly avoiding the attack.

"Ooh, did I hit a nerve," the lithe bastard taunted. "Alright, show me what you can do with that."

While Tim liked to think that he was level-headed and calm, like a hot-blooded idiot, he took the bait. He threw another slash with his other arm, his opponent easily dodging it. The glowing grin did _not_ help to focus him.

Attack after attack was dodged, the teen's frustration mounting. After one slice aimed at the masked asshole's throat, Tim slipped a hand into his belt and removed a throwing projectile. Making a feint, he threw the, ahem, birdarang and watched as the murderous assassin leaned his head to a side casually. The small projectile whizzed harmlessly through the air, striking and embedding itself in the pavement.

"That it? Boring." With that insane speed, the masked assailant closed the distance between them, lashing out a foot. The vigilante brought his cape up and blocked, his arm trembling under the force used. There was a second blow landed against the cape, and Tim was pushed back, his feet digging into the court's cement flooring.

Peeking around the cape, he raised the barrier higher as those blades made a return to the fight. Never was he more thankful that they couldn't pierce through this tough material—whoa!

Goddamn it, bastard kicked out his legs! Like last time! And like last time, a foot slammed on his chest, pushing the air out of his lungs.

"Now that's just sad. Falling for the same move," the masked asshole tsked. "A waste of my time. Hopefully your blood will make up for it."

The next thing that happened showed that this would-be killer also hadn't learned from last. Only this time, a green bull slammed into him, knocking him away like he was nothing. And to the guy's misfortunate, the bull landed on top of him before rolling off. That had to have hurt.

"Look alive, Red," Cassie ordered as she stood over him. "You might be an asshole but I'm not about to let someone else get the glory of taking you down a peg. Fight like a real man or get out of here."

Wounded male pride aside, he was going to accept her help this one time.

"My hero," he deadpanned as he got back onto his feet. Then, more sincerely, "Thanks for the tag."

"I'm still gonna string you up later, but you gotta be alive for that," Cassie quipped. "Since you're having trouble with Halloween guy, I say we switch. How good are you at animal wrangling?"

"Never tried it."

"You gotta learn some time." The bull was charging at them now, head angled downwards with its horns aimed right at them. "Guess that time's now."

Grabbing him from behind, Cassie tossed him in the air and leapt to the side. Simultaneously, Tim landed on the bull's back and had no choice but to grab onto the thick hair that sprouted around the neck lest he fall off.

A second later, he had a thought occur to him: didn't bulls hate the color red?


	12. A Hint of Lesbos

A Hint of Lesbos

Rachel had known for some time that the power she possessed was not to be trifled with. Its might was too great to be treated with contempt or sneered at. At this moment in time, even she did not know its limits.

With that said, her time training herself to use this power in combat was sorely lacking.

Her attacks were powerful, yes. Her defense nigh impenetrable. Doing both, though, used too much energy and concentration. She was tiring herself with her use of her magic that she was preserving herself with. Against an opponent like the wind manipulator currently attacking her, it was more a liability to her survival than an asset.

And he knew how to fight. He could see her tiring out and knew to press on forward, giving her no time to catch her breath. With funnel-esque whirlwinds spinning from his hands, he reached out to grab cars parked on the street and throw them at her. Not too hard dodging them except there was also that earth manipulator who she believed was on the ground, most likely that blonde girl that had yet to move from where the dark-haired teen had first saw her.

The rocks she launched were caught up the wind and recycled as projectiles to further test her defenses. One or two striking her shields was bearable, but thanks to that wind manipulator, it was dozens upon dozens of strikes instead. A rapid-fire, unceasing barrage on top of whatever else was thrown at her.

It was safe to say, she was not having a good time up here.

Oh yeah, she was also hundreds of feet up in the air with all this happening. So offense, defense, _and_ levitation all at the same time. It was a wonder she hadn't collapsed from exhaustion already.

"You're really getting annoying with not dying already!" the blond wind manipulated shouted at her as he plucked two decent-sized boulders that she had managed to evade and brought them down on either side of her. Now that was a real test of her spherical shield there. The pressure being exerted on it was causing it to take on an oval shape.

Clenching her teeth together, Rachel released a wave of magic to shatter the boulders and allowed its pieces to fall down to the ground below. Throwing a hand in front of her, palm and fingers flat, she fired three tendrils of magic, directing them at her levitating opponent.

To his credit, the wind manipulator evaded the tendrils with ease, backing away first then zipping through the air like a fighter jet, moving too quickly for the tendrils to reach him. Though they curved to try and correct themselves, by their nature they were too cumbersome to achieve the task. Zooming past the tendrils' heads, the wind manipulator slashed at their bodies, ending whatever threat they may have posed to him with a slash of wind.

Seeing how he had turned his head when attacking, Rachel fired off a blast of black-colored magic, managing to land a hit on the blond loudmouth's back. He fell slightly, pain interfering with his concentration, but he managed to catch himself with his wind.

Even though he was in another position to be hit, she chose not to, predicting the next onslaught of rocks coming from below. Directing a hand in the direction of where she last saw the suspected earth manipulator, she fired off another blast of magic, the beam cutting through the barrage of earthly projectiles.

Without checking to see if her attack made contact, Rachel quickly returned her attention to her other enemy, and asserted more concentration into her shield, blocking yet another attack. The wind manipulator had swirled his wind-aspected power around his fist and was trying to punch her with it. The chaos of moving air pressed against the shield unyieldingly.

"You're...getting...tired," the wind manipulator declared through clenched teeth.

"And you...are...only...more...irritating," she retorted, dismissing the statement. That didn't mean that he wasn't right. Her face was becoming drenched in sweat and already she could feel her magical reserves stretching themselves to the limit.

And by reserves, she meant the amount of power that she knew she could control without question. How easy it would be to really go all out...that is if she had no care for the setting of this battle. It would be very noticeable if a portion of a city was destroyed in less than a few seconds. That would bring unwanted attention from all sources.

And those sources weren't all human.

Something struck her shield from behind, increasing the pressure placed on her psyche. Rachel didn't have to look to know that it was another rock or boulder or whatever earth-based weapon the earth manipulator below had cared to throw at her. As if sensing her distraction, the wind manipulator increased the speed of his wind and the pressure he himself was exerting.

Two different kinds of elementals attacking her from either side was more difficult to deflect than two attacks of the same elemental. The physical composition of each was too different to keep up the same defense. In summary, a bad situation all around.

Time for a stronger spell than usual.

Gathering what magic she could, Rachel closed her eyes as she began to chant, "Azarath…"

The elemental attacks were pressing closer, her shield quickly reaching its limit.

"...Metrion…"

"You're toast, bitch," the wind manipulator hissed as her shield bulged inward, barely holding on.

Snapping open her eyes, the optic organs a solid black, she roared the last word of the chant, " _Zinthos!_ "

A surge of black magic blasted the wind manipulator away, the blond male screaming in agony as he was thrown away, rocketing to some unknown destination in the city. Behind her, the rock/boulder was annihilated, reduced to mere particles. But that was not all. Mimicking bolts of electricity, the dark magic sought out the earth controller his or herself and ripping the ground around them.

Shuddering, Rachel's shield finally broke apart, leaving her vulnerable for attacks that weren't coming. The mental exhaustion was hitting her, and a quick rest was needed. Levitating would not be helping with that, so she began to lower herself down towards the ruin basketball court below.

Once she caught her breath and rebuilt some of her mental fortifications, she would resume the fight.

* * *

Having not expected the sudden flare of power from the dark-clothed floating girl, Terra brought up her arms in an attempt to shield herself. The presence of earth, in particular that which was suspended in the air, vanished from her consciousness, leaving her geokinesis to awkwardly grab at anything it could to remain, well, "on."

Bolts of black power struck the ground around her, throwing the blonde-haired girl off her feet. Rolling onto her stomach, she attempted to roll up into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Too bad it wasn't enough. While it didn't hit her per se, one of those bolts struck too close to her head. A small strand of the bolt split off from it and landed against the back of her skull.

Terra's eyes widened as she felt a surge of _something_ flood her head and she let out a soundless scream. Digging her fingers into her scalp, she curled up into as small a ball as her body would allow as something _huge_ began to overwhelm her mind with its longevity and solidness.

* * *

He was being cockblocked and Warblade didn't like it. Not one bit. How many times was someone going to get in the way of him killing that one, Goddamn kid? Seriously. He was seeing green right now, but it wasn't the person you thought it was.

Propping himself up on his arms, the leader of the Ravagers glared at a certain green-dressed bitch who was sticking to the sidelines without a care in the word. Not helping.

"Care to help us mere mortals out?" he demanded.

"I did what you wanted me to do, I found those two," Phobia shrugged as she examined her fingertips. "It _exhausted_ me. So I am resting myself in preparation for my grand entrance. I think you're handling things quite well."

She didn't look the least bit tired.

Oh, she was dragging her feet. That's what this was. And he knew why. Her type didn't like being told what to do by someone else. No, Phobia wanted to be the one calling the shots. So either she was waiting for their targets to beat the shit out of them then come in fully rested to kill them and take all the credit. Probably something along those lines.

Pausing, Warblade heard the approaching sounds of sirens. The cops had been called. Screw that shit, he was not leaving empty handed.

"Make yourself useful and do something about the cops. They're going to crash us," the masked teen snarled as he pushed himself up onto a knee. "Blood said nothing about any of us falling in battle and it would be a bitch to find someone to replace you."

Phobia sniffed in contempt but said nothing. Whatever. Warblade had more important things to worry about. Like the new contender in armor approaching him from behind. And it was one thing after another.

* * *

With shoulders squared and head held high, Cassie approached the guy who seemed to have a thing for Red. Why he liked trying to attack the masked pest, she kinda understood. He grated on the nerves very easily. Did Red deserve a broken jaw? Sure. Did he deserve to be sliced and diced? Depends on what kind of a day she was having.

Too bad for wannabe Jack Skelington, this wasn't one of those days.

"Care for a real fight?" she challenged as she cracked her knuckles.

Turning around the masked face with the glowing eyes and smile, the tall, skinny ghoul gave a huff of all things. "Sure, why not? What's another dance partner? Maybe you'll be better sport."

"Giving up on her already?" She raised an eyebrow while giving a smirk. "Didn't know you were so easy."

"Make your jokes, we'll see if you're smiling when I'm through with you." The masked guy didn't even sound like he was offended. Instead of waiting for her to make the first move, he seized it first.

Faster than she had anticipated, those blades were slashing at her with lethal intent. Lucky for her, her gauntlets were more than durable enough to withstand the sharp edges. She had to grit her teeth at the loud screech that was made as those oh so long claws slid against the metal. Now she was sympathizing with poor Red.

"You know what I don't understand?" the jack-o-lantern face hissed. "Why doesn't your armor cover your vital areas? Here, let me show you why it should!"

Unexpectedly, he pulled back only to stab forth once more. Cassie had to act quick and jerk her arms downward to block again. It was a close thing as the tips of those blades were inches from her stomach. Automatically, she threw her head back to avoid a backhand that carried with it the threat of four, thin, sharp objects tearing into her face. That was narrowly avoided, but the blow to her chest was not.

Her feet dug into the pavement as she fought not to lose her balance. In that respect, she was successful. The palm that smacked her in the face, she was not as successful in blocking. Instinctively, she threw her arms over her head and planted her hands on the pavement, pushing up and going into a flip. She landed on her feet, a perfect score landing.

A quick jerk served to block a swipe from her left and a jab with her elbow deflected a second attempt. She was getting into the zone where the world slowed a bit and allowed her to keep pace with the fight. Surprisingly, her freaky dance partner was barely slowing down in this state.

Slipping out her armor's rope, she looped it around one of those unfriendly hands as it made another attempt on her. Pulling up on the rope, she tightened and trapped the wrist, looping the mystical item around a lower arm and sharply yanking down. That had the desired effect of forcing wannabe Jack into bending over, and let her tell you she slugged him with an uppercut, snapping that head back so satisfyingly.

In a second, she went on the move, slipping around and bringing that arm with her. Now back-to-back, she rammed her elbow into aforementioned back, pleased when she heard a yelp of pain.

Then her dance partner did a spin of his own, spinning around her so they were face-to-face again. She didn't like this view and made a feint, hoping that he would pull back and give her some room. However, he caught her spare arm, jerked it aside, and threw his head forward, headbutting her.

Stars erupted in her vision, but she sharpened her gaze, though not because she forced herself to. More like, the pain that blossomed in the side of her head from the backhand did that. Letting herself fall a bit, she kicked a leg up and tried a spin kick on him while the rest of her body was parallel with the ground. Frustratingly, he blocked.

On his counteracted, he pushed her leg away but fell forward. With a bent arm, he rammed his elbow into her torso and sped up her fall, turning the elbow drop into a piledriver. Shooting pain erupted in her stomach, but she shoved it a side to bring up a knee to his head. Except he rolled out of the way so she got nothing but air.

Gritting her teeth, she brought her other leg up to be level with first leg, then threw both forward with enough force to pull the rest of her body with them. Back on her feet, she tightened the grip on her glowing rope, having not released it the whole time, and yanked on it with all her might. That was just in time as it caused the Halloween cosplayer to overshoot his follow-up strike, the finger blades passing by her harmlessly.

She brought a fist to that mask, enjoying the clang of opposing metals. That turned out to be a big mistake as the ghoulish fighter grabbed her wrist and jerked it to her far left. Not only her arm, but her shoulder was overextended, and the next thing she knew, she was being spun around. At the same time, something thin wrapped around her throat, causing her to raise a hand up to grip at it.

Turns out it was her own rope.

"You're not too bad," the grinning ghoul commented. "Better than that small fry. You have some moves." The rope tightened against her neck and she attempted to get her fingers under it to relieve some pressure. Unfortunately, the one hand she had available to do that was the same one she had wrapped her rope around earlier for leverage. Instead of support, it was hindering her as a tangle. "Not bad looking either. What a waste."

The blonde gave a thrash, trying to give herself some kind of opening to exploit. Her strangler merely adjusted, using the opportunity to get a better hold on her. It was starting to get harder to breathe.

As a last resort, she tried to slacken her body, but that didn't help her. Didn't hurt either, unless you counted giving that jackass behind her higher vantage over her. Dropping her eyes to the ground as she could feel pressure start to building behind her eyes, she looked for something, anything nearby that could change the tables.

Nothing, but maybe her leg… Nothing for it. Trying to balance awkwardly on one, she kicked the other out to try and get her would-be killer's knee. Got his shin instead, but she had used enough force that it slid his leg out and put him into a quasi-split. He was leaning on her to keep his balance, an arm placed on her shoulder and within range of her somewhat free arm.

Snatching the arm, she pulled forward and down, flipping the goon over her and onto his back. That managed to free her other arm and she used that to quickly free her precious neck. In the amount of time it took to do that, the fiendish blade wielder had rolled onto his front, pushed himself back onto his feet, and rushed at her, tackling her gut and throwing them both back onto the pavement.

Going with the motion, Cassie inserted a leg between the two of them and kicked up with it, throwing him off her before he could get purchase. Scrambling back onto her feet, the armored teenaged girl watched the guy do the same, measuring him and trying to figure out a new point of attack. She noted at some point, he had freed his one wrist from her rope, so there was that as well.

Definitely a better fighter than Red.

A large form skidded up behind her, and she clenched her teeth in anxiety at what it could be. One of this ghoul's buddies? A floating chunk of rock she had seen about? Something worse?

"How are you with guys who use four arms?" a voice panted behind her.

An odd question. "Why are you asking me?" she demanded, still not keeping her eyes off the blade-runner (?) she had been facing off with.

"Trade? I'll take Fingers, you get the Real Spiderman Guy over there?"

She took in a breath, and considered the offer. "I've never had a guy with four arms before. There's a first time for everything, I guess."

"Then spin around with me."

Cassie couldn't believe she was doing this, especially since it meant she was placing a lot of trust between herself and whoever was behind her. "To the right," she said and matched actions to words. The world whirled around and now she could see a hulking, four-armed guy. She gripped her glowing rope, coming up with a plan of action.

"What's this, you're giving up on me?" bellowed her previous dance partner.

"She ain't interested, Freddy Krueger," her alleged ally retorted.

"We'll see about that, metal man."

The guy with the four arms took a step back, his posture relaxing. It didn't seem like the guy was interested in picking a fight with her. Maybe it was because of that, that she looked over her shoulder, the fighter with the glowing mask rushing towards her and the...this guy was covered in metal, wasn't he? Oh, there was some skin up on his head, and only his head. Huh.

The metal guy stood there and at the last second, took a step to the side. To her shock, it wasn't a side that took him out of danger, but kept him straight in the middle of the ghoulish attacker's path. Already, faux-Freddy was stabbing forwards with those blades, and everything that was the girl's being screamed to move.

Yet, her would-be partner, did not move. The blades were coming into contact with his torso. There was that awful screeching sound as metal slid against metal. There was a breaking noise as those blades snapped into pieces and flew about—wait, what?

Snatching the hand with the broken knives, the metal guy raised his other arm up and threw a devastating punch. Why that word? Because as that large fist decked that glowing mask, the mask itself seemed to give as a crater of cracks formed under the blow. Like a ragdoll, Mr. Halloween was sent flying back, smashing against broken pavement, his body skipping along it like a rock on water.

"Don't worry, I got this," the metal guy stated.

She could see that.

Well, with that in hand, Cassie returned her sights to her new dance partner, the one with four arms. Just as surprised as she was, the big lug was in a defensive stance, waiting for her to come to him.

No sense in disappointing him.

* * *

Tim knew that the last thing he ever wanted to be was a bull rider. Rodeos were not in his future. All the bucking about, it was so jarring. You had to use both your arms and legs to hold on. And things like an activated glider cape had to be deactivated because that brought enough problems as it was.

That said, he was literally holding the bull by the horns as it ran and bucked about, trying to throw him off.

"Get off, dude!" the bull growled at him.

Oh yeah, and it talked too.

"No thanks. I like it better up here," he grunted out his half-lie.

"Fine! Have it your way!"

It was weird, the sensation of shifting beneath him. The muscles and hair of a bull morphed into those of an elephant, complete with the leathery skin and everything. A truck slipped around his waist and yanked the vigilante off, tossing him aside like he was...was...a banana peel or something. Hopefully, he wouldn't get stepped on like one because he doubted he was as slick.

Things seemed to have gotten worse. Instead of a bucking bull, he had a charging elephant. Not good. How do you fighting one of those anyway?

At least it was easy to dodge. All he had to do was, you know, run to a side. It had to be done at the right second; any earlier and the beast would change directions to follow him. Okay, so how to take this thing? Real quick, did he have something in his belt? Um, checking, checking, hold a second, gotta dodge this next charge. Back to the belt. What were these balls, why were they—oh, this was one of those bola things! Hadn't used that before.

Seeing as the green elephant was coming back for another go, he guessed this was as good a time to try. Alright, so how did you spin this thing. Should have practiced with this thing before...alright, that looked about right. He had the two balls spinning, he just had to throw, right?

The large animal was closing in, gotta time this right. As one foot was planted into the ground and the other was lifted to take the next step, Tim threw the weapon with as much accuracy and strength that he could under the circumstances. To his gratitude, it was all true. He could see the balls spread out and stretch the cable that ran between them, wrapping around the elephant's two front legs and abruptly bringing them closely together.

Making a surprised sound, the elephant fell forward and landed face first on the concrete pavement, sliding a bit due to the momentum pushing its large body. As it came to an ungraceful stop, the trunk lifted slightly up from the ground and said, "That was so not cool."

Not that Tim was looking to be cool, but whatever.

There was another shift, down from the large bulk of a pachyderm to a more sleek-bodied wolf that was easily able to slip out of the bola's restraint. Taking a step back, the vigilante kept his eyes on the predator, watching it as it began to circle. The normal wolf growls were used to up its threat, its eyes hungry for meat.

It was a good thing he had seen so many wolf videos online. Not that that was a hobby or anything. He just had a lot of time on his hands, or more than what you think he would have. And investigating got dull after a while. Needed a break here and there.

Launching itself with powerful hind legs, the canine attacked with snapping jaws. The masked teen was lucky he was able to twist his body enough to dodge, spinning on his heel to keep the wolf in sight at all times. The wolf had already turned itself around to face and stalk around him again, waiting for the next opportunity to take a shot at him.

Its reflexes in this from were too great, the teen was going to have to force things. Sneaking a hand up to his cape's clasp right over his chest, he waited for his enemy's next move. He was not disappointed when the lunge came, and quickly, he reactivated the cape, bringing it in front of him to use as a shield once more. Bracing his legs, he threw himself forward to meet with the snarling beast.

He felt the mass of coiled muscle and primal hunger ram into his unintended barrier, and thanks to the timing of his push back, he caught the beast off guard and received a yelp of pain for his trouble. Lowering the cape enough so that he could take measure of what to do next, he found that the wolf had changed form again.

This time, it was a human. One that was rubbing the side of his head. Yeah, his, because that was an obvious male. At least, that's what Tim thought. Wasn't about to make a check of that now of all times.

"Ow, why'd you do that?" the green-skinned male complained.

A blink of his eyes at the complaint. "Because you're trying to kill me?"

"Right," the male grumbled. Was that a hint of sarcasm he heard? Wait, there was an eyeroll there too. Picking himself up, the unknown green male held himself up at the ready.

"You mind telling me what any of us have done to deserve death?" It seemed like this was a bit of a pause in this death battle, so Tim hoped that a little fishing could get him something.

"I dunno." There was a definite shrug of the shoulders there, even if the guard was not lowered. "I was told I had to do something and so here I am. Doing it."

That was real informative. Not.

Beginning to circle this unpredictable foe, Tim pressed, "You have to know something. It's not everyday someone sends you out to kill, right?"

"I was never told to kill anybody. I think that's Warblade's shtick," was the answer, the green-colored male matching the vigilante step for step. "I'm here for the fight. I think."

"And who is Warblade?"

"You know him. Knives for fingers."

Oh great. That asshole's name was Warblade. Fantastic. Made him feel so much better.

"He's kind of an asshole," he said frankly.

"Kinda is," the green male confirmed.

"You...want to just...stop? You know...trying to kill me?" the masked teen tried. Who knows, maybe that's all he needed to do.

"I'm in enough trouble. I think Warblade's got something against you," came the reply. "Nothing personal."

"Alright," Tim said as he stopped circling, "let's get this over with."

"Gladly." The green-skinned foe morphed once again, this time a gorilla. Oh, he was thumping his chest, how original. In response, Tim deactivated his cape and let it fall limp. Raising up a hand, he made a "come hither" gesture and waited while reaching for his belt with the other one.

Once again, he wasn't disappointed as the green gorilla charged, roar and all.

Turning on his heel, Tim began running for his life, a five hundred pound (maybe) animal at his heels. He didn't need to run long, just keep out of reach for a few seconds. Facing him was a brick wall, one that had lined the basketball court. At the last second, he jumped at the wall, placing a foot against the brick and running up it. Pushing off, he flew over the gorilla's head, using his limp cape to block sight of the wall. Was not really needed since the ape was lifting its head to watch his arc.

Too bad he wasn't slowing down. Almost comically, the primate ran into the brick and mortar wall. Simultaneously, Tim unfurled a birdarang and threw it at the back of the ape's head. There was a mighty crack, though from what, the teen did not know. He was more concerned with completing his flip, and almost botched it. Yeah, landed on his feet, but almost fell onto his ass. Had to take a step back to prevent that, and in the process destroy the coolness factor of his move.

That aside, what really mattered was the gorilla pulling back unsteadily from the wall. Its movements were jerky, and was further punctuated by the shift back to the human form. There was a groan and finally, the male collapsed onto the ground like a ragged doll, completely motionless.

Waiting a second, Tim approached cautiously, making a quick check for a pulse and finding it. Alright, one down for the count. There was, what, five others? Five others left to deal with. At least it would be much easier.

Then he found himself being flipped over and backwards. Okay, ow. Why was he looking at asphalt all of a sudden?

Snapping his head up, the vigilante grimaced as he spotted a pair of feet. A tight, spandex material covered the tops of said feet and ran up the legs, but did not cover the bottom of said feet. Picking himself up into a crouch, he nearly blushed at the female who was exposing a lot of skin with an amazing looking cleavage. The leg covers stopped mid-thigh, followed by some skin, then tight-fitting booty shorts, and he had no idea what to call anything about the belt.

His mom would have a conniption fit at this sight. So much _skin_.

"My turn," an accented voice stated. Any and all boob-related thoughts had to stop as a karate chop needed to be blocked. At least that was one reaction Tim could make.

The next strikes were lightning quick, mostly getting him in the chest and knocking him around for a second. Then he was on the ground. Again. For like, the third time that night. He was gonna have to stop doing that.

"Another day at the office," he grumbled as he picked himself up once again.

* * *

The sounds of battle could not be ignored. Koriand'r had made her way towards where the noise of combat could be heard, and from the empty space placed between two large structures, she witnessed a skirmish that was very reminiscent of home

Of course, the differences were quite stark. This was a battle between the native species. There were a lot of odd shaped, and different colored combatants, different from the skin hues of her own species. The fighting itself was rather untamed; some knew what they were doing, others were making it up as they went along. A fight between veterans and novices?

The reason for the fighting was not important. Tamaran had its fair share of violence. Yet, because all combatants were involved in their martial prowesses, this could be the opportunity she needed. What was one more body in a battle for survival? This was a battle for survival, right? It didn't look like a political one.

Her eyes switched from one participant to another. So many shapes and sizes. So many sexes. So many different battle armors.

There. Right there. One of the combatants had pulled away from the fight, most likely resting theirself. Of the shorter size, and a dark cloak covering the body. On guard but slightly relaxed, taking a quick respite from the conflict. More importantly, out of everyone taking part, that one was the closest in physical proximity to her.

To minimize any and all risk, this Tamaranian would have to be quick.

Vacating the safety of the unnoticed passage from which she claimed shelter, she marched her way towards the skirmish, never taking her eyes off the cloaked one whose back ever remained facing towards her. Distance was closing quickly, her heartbeat was racing in anticipation of accomplishing her long sought out goal.

* * *

The area was thick with emotions, permeating and saturating the very air itself. The power that Rachel yielded, unfortunately, was vulnerable to said emotions. When the high of combat had settled, there was nothing to prevent her from picking up these emotions.

Anger, rage, desperation, stress, fear, anxiety, excitement, and even a little lust were the big ones that stood out. To lesser extents, there was worry, pride, and desire. It all added up to one big distraction for her, and if the dark-haired girl was to continue contributing her part, she would need to center herself and push all this excess affect out.

To not do so was to invite disaster. In particular, the kind that no one plans for.

Calming breathes and an inner chant would have to serve for this situation. To close her eyes, quite frankly, would be stupid. There was a bloodlust in the air too, mixed with murderous intent. Another clue that these attackers were more like assassins than your typical thug and goon types. If she was to limit whatever damaged she caused, getting high off those emotions was not the way to do it.

Keeping an eye out for anyone assuming she would be an easy mark, Rachel calmed herself down, leveling her state of mind as best as she could given the circumstance. Be cold, observant, and most of all, clinical. Be pragmatic, think before acting whenever possible.

Little by little, she expelled her all foreign affect that may have soaked into her psyche. Bit by bit, she claimed more of herself, centering and stabilizing.

Fear, anxiety, anger, rage, all of those became easier to ignore. With those isolated, the smaller, less power ones were easier to separate and remove. It was interesting to see what was uncovered, sometimes, when stronger emotions were put to a side. Primarily, excitement and lust were the new big ones. Before any ideas could take hold, lust in this case meant the desire for satisfaction, the kind that only a hard fight could bring. There was sexual desire that could be detected, but that was so far into the background that it was hardly noticeable…

That was a new one. Determination. It was a strong emotion, but not as tumultuous as all the ones filling the area. They hide this new one well, and only when you peeled the others away would you detect it. Yet, it was not coming from all the fighters, both assassin and mark. The source of it was...behind her?

Turning her head around, Rachel found much to her surprise a tall woman in a black and silver getup that she had never seen before. It was a look that for a moment made her want to exchange her own wardrobe for it. Again with strong emotions of desire, push that away.

Once you could get past the garments, there was something else about this woman that stood out. That something else happened to be the color of her skin. Now, Rachel was not one to judge or be biased based on something as arbitrary as hue of one's skin pigment. Yet she had never come across any individual, in all her travels, that had _orange_ skin.

The sounds of fighting broke through her surprise and reminded her of the dangers of this place.

Holding a hand out, she issued a warning, "Vacate these premises if you value your life."

She thought that conveyed the severity of the situation quite well.

To her confusion, the orange-skinned woman spoke herself, but none of it was understandable. It was like listening to gibberish. Was it a statement? An agreement? Hard to tell due to how short it was.

However, this strange woman was fast. Or maybe the better word was opportunistic. Because of her distraction, this newcomer and placed her hands on each of her shoulders and pulled the empathic teen close. Tilting her head back while placing her hands against a firm chest, Rachel attempted to...well, she didn't know what she was attempting.

All rational thought ended as a pair of lips pressed against hers.

* * *

Koriand'r pulled away, relief and pride mixing together within her. At long last, she had accomplished the goal that had long eluded her. The...human? Yes, the human in front of her stared up at her, eyes wide and lost.

Well, the transient supposed that her actions were random and potentially could be mischaracterized. It was one thing to be aware of a culture in which lip contact was not a general practice, but it was another to actually see it. On Tamaran, such lip gestures were common, a public display that held no real meaning.

Perhaps an apology was in order?

Words, sentence structure, and grammar all came readily to her when before, it was all beyond her reach. Assuming a subservient stance (hmm, why was this smaller human backing away?), the exile spoke in the most apologetic way she knew a Tamaranian was capable of.

"My apologies for my actions. It was not my intention to place you in a position in which you were uncomfortable. If it would atone, I will perform a service for you in exchange for my infraction."

There, that expressed all her sincerity, didn't it? Her parents had always encouraged her to respond to any and all transgressions she made and absolve them as speedily as possible. Though she wished to return to her new, solitary existence, reparation must first be addressed.

An odd sound came from the smaller, cloaked human, nothing that was easily understood by the extraterrestrial. Had...had she picked up the incorrect language? A disturbing thought, but one that could be remedied with—

The human was coughing, bringing up a hand to cover their oral orifice. The sides of their face was turning red. Was this human sick? Had there been an unintentional exchange of hostile, microbial illness? She herself was not experiencing any strange symptoms.

Looking past the human, she could that the combatants she had had seen earlier had all ceased fighting. To her confusion, they were all staring at her and the cloaked human. The ones that could be classified as males were expressing a lot of interest, their eyes blank and jaws slightly open. She had never seen such looks from humans before.

"Ahem...um...yeah, alright." Koriand'r returned her gaze to the small human. It appeared that the human was having trouble speaking. Though not unheard of, it was rare for a language transfer to render a foreign species incapable of using their native language. Was she witnessing such a rare sight?

""What...what was that for?" Ah! A full sentence! No, correction, a question! And she understood it! Marvelous!

"Again, my apologies, but I needed use of your native tongue. Due to my misinterpreted actions, I wish to make amends. Name what will do so and I shall have it done," she answered.

"Um...okay. I...I would ask you to...leave. There...there is a conflict occurring in this location and I do not wish for you to be harmed by it, no matter how unintentional." Recovery of speech was rapid.

"Are you speaking of the warfare that was taking place here?" Koriand'r inquired. "If you would have me, I shall end the conflict in your victory. I hope that will be of a more adequate exchange for my actions?"

"What? No, you...you need to leave," the cloaked human protested. "It's dangerous!"

"And I am a warrior," she stated, moving around the human to place them behind her. "Direct me to your enemies and I shall see them conquered! Which ones are your enemies?"

It was very important to know that. To assault one's comrades and friends was unacceptable, even if it was done by mistake.

"What…?"

"Your enemies, please. Before they are able to regroup themselves and launch an offensive." She spoke that as more of a command than a request. In times of battle, there was no time for requests.

"Uhh…"

"Is the one with four frontal appendages a friend?" A change of tact then.

"No…"

"Thank you. What about the female wearing battle armor? She is carrying a rope."

"I'm...not familiar with her, but I have noticed she has been fighting with my ally more than the others."

A friend then. "The large male made of metal?"

"Victor? Yes, I suppose, he is my...friend."

One by one, she listed all that were visible. One by one, she received her answers. In her mind, she was formulating a plan of action. It would be obsolete once combat resumed, but that was not important. She knew where she needed to start first.

As her life energies began to consolidate within her, she took the first steps to engagement. Due to being the largest, and most likely the more formidable, opponent, Koriand'r rushed towards the enemy with multiple arm appendages. Seeing her charge, the enemy readied himself for combat.

Clenching a fist and tensing the muscles in her arm, this indebted mercenary threw the first attack. What occurred next was a reminder of her strength to mass ratio on this particular planet. The enemy's defense crumpled before her might and unable to endure, the one of many arms was propelled in the direction the force of her punch was aimed. Away from the conflict he flew, crashing through one of the moving vehicles that had been placed alongside the street and stopping as his body impacted the structure behind it. It was a building, she believed it to be called.

One down, who was next? Over there, she recognized the assailant from the previous nocturnal phase. He seemed to recognize her as well, though that was a little questionable since the word he spoke made no sense to her. What did the word f—

Fighting instinct raised her guard up to block the incoming attack. A darker-skinned female in cloth armor, cleavage exposed, and the bottom of her feet exposed was attempting to engage her. Looking at the design of this female's thin armor, Koriand'r felt nostalgic and a little homesick.

The feelings of longing aside, she had a debt to repay. Koriand'r blocked and parried the strikes, the human using a fighting style the Tamaranian did not recognize. To be fair, it was only natural that this species developed its own unique fighting skills with a mind to maximize their own strengths.

The Warlords of Okaara had done the same with her. After getting a feel for this opponent and learning that she favored kicks and sharp jabs, the alien exile returned the favor with a kick of her own. While the female was able to block it, again the strength to mass ratio came into effect and this enemy was forced backwards by several feet.

Zooming past the darker-skinned female, large clumps of the planet's surface raced towards her unexpectedly. Wary of this, the exiled alien took evasive measures, dodging to the left, ducking, and rolling out of the way of all ground-based projectiles.

One, though, was faster than the others, and her time to evade was severely limited. Allowing her life energy to ball up in one hand, she fired it at the incoming rock and reduced it to pebbles in an instant. Two more blasts of life energy were blasted out, striking and destroying two more land-based projectiles far from where she stood.

The assailant from the last nocturnal phase was taking his turn at her, using her distraction to slice at her with those unique fingers of his. The body-molded uniform was torn, revealing her skin beneath it. She tried to counterattack, but the assailant snaked around her, slipping his arms under hers and restrained her.

"Do it! Touch her!" he roared, the dark-skinned female nodding and obeying the order.

Now that she could comprehend the language, Koriand'r was certain that she did not wish for this female to indeed touch her. Grasping the assailant's wrists, she yanked them upwards, then threw her torso downward, releasing her hold as the enemy flipped over her. He slammed into the dark-skinned female back first, knocking the both of them away from her.

A simple maneuver, augmented with her enhanced strength on this planet.

As the assailant picked himself up, rubbing the back of his head, he commanded a retreat, one that she would not pursue. A retreat was to be respected, showed a commander had learned the futility of his struggles and was preserving his forces for the next battle. It was good to know this species was of the same mind as hers on the matter.

With the vacating enemies gone, what were left were the cloaked one she had impressed her will onto and the ones she was led to believe was their allies. She had repaid her debt and awaited the confirmation of that payment.

Then she could return to exile.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey Jackalope89, I hope this is an adequate substitute for the famous Starfire/Dick Grayson kiss. I know you were worried about that.


	13. Savior from the Sky, Agent from the Eart

Savior from the Sky, Agent from the Earth

Out of all the ways that this could have ended, the same person who had come to Tim's rescue the night before had not been one of the ones he expected. Oh man, was she here to finish the job then? No, wait, why go through the effort of kissing that girl in the cloak then whale on everyone that tried to attack her?

He meant, it wasn't like there's anything wrong with, let's see, two girls kissing in public right? That was another girl, right? From where he stood, it definitely looked like a girl. Or a woman. She was very tall.

And it wasn't a sight you got to see very often.

Her fighting style was one Tim hadn't seen before, not that he was an expert in all things martial arts or anything. Yet it worked for her, and Warblade and his goons could not figure out a way around it. So, yay, he guessed? He lived to fight another night.

Since he was able to live a little longer, he now had more mysteries to solve. Like, who was the girl in the cloak, the robot man, and...who else was he forgetting? Oh right, he still needed to apprehend Cassie over there. Huh, she looked as surprised as he felt.

"Have I repaid my debt to you, human?" the rescuer of the night called out to the cloaked girl. That was an interesting way to say things.

"Uh...sure," the cloaked girl said slowly, most likely trying to grasp the situation herself.

A bright smile creased the very lovely—whoa, wait a second. Was that _orange_ skin? It looked orange, or just a really, really bad tan. Tim had a feeling it wasn't a tan. Now that they weren't in some alley, he was picking up details he had missed before. Oh wow, her hair was also something out of this world too. A dark orange, kinda red? Woo.

For some reason, he was thinking the color of her getup did not match her complexion.

"I am glad to have been of service and repaid what was owed," the, gulp, voluptuous woman said. And she sounded like she really meant it. No deception whatsoever.

"Thanks?" the robot guy said, also as confused as the rest of them.

Alright, snap out of it Drake. This whole thing was weird, but you needed to get things on track. First thing was first: identities.

"Who are you?" he called out, somewhat proud that his voice didn't crack or anything. Yep, strong and resilient. That's how he wanted to portray himself.

Lovely-looking green eyes turned to him. "I am no one of importance, human male. A simple lifeform trying to find her place and nothing more. If you will excuse me, I shall vacate these premises and continue on my direction."

Uh, okay? That last part kinda threw him off. What was she trying to say again? Continue on her direction? Um, what was another word for direction? Why wasn't he quicker with this?

"I saw you the other night," he pressed, hoping to delay her a little longer. "You saved me then too, from that guy. Warblade."

"Warblade?" the robot man repeated, now giving him a skeptical look.

"That guy with the knife fingers," he reminded helpfully.

"The Freddy Krueger guy? His name is Warblade? Where'd he ever come up with a name like that?" robot man wondered.

"I know not the motivations of this 'Warblade' but it was obvious that he wished to do you harm," the orange lady said. "I will admit, my intentions were not wholly not guilty. I had interior reasons to come to your aid during that nocturnal phase, erm, night I believe you call it?"

"What kind of interior motives?" Tim asked, then paused as he asked himself what the hell he was saying.

"I needed to acquire your human-based language and to do so, I need to make contact with one of your species' oral orifices. You were not kind enough to allow me that the previous night," explained the strange woman with the even stranger grammar.

Most of that didn't make any sense.

"Does your oral orifice contact let you acquire language?" the robot guy asked, speaking slowly. Even when said that way, it did not make that much more sense to the vigilante.

"That is what I said, yes."

Robot guy shared a look with him and shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds like she can learn languages through kissing."

Oh, that's what she said. Now that he understood it, it still didn't make any sense. Was that some newly discovered super power or something? What possible use could there be—alright, he could actually see a lot of use with having that power. Being able to have an excuse to kiss girls to learn other languages had a host of benefits and cut out having to sit in a classroom learning a new tongue word by word. Plus it sounded really, really enjoyable.

"Would you get your mind out of the gutter?" the cloaked girl requested, spooking Tim because somehow she had gotten close to him without him hearing her move. How'd she do that? It was like experiencing Batman all over again.

"Yeah, get your mind out of the gutter," robot guy chimed in, giving a cough behind a fist.

"You were no better," cloak girl retorted.

"You know, that's another thing. Who are you two, and why were those guys also attacking you?" Someone had to steer things back to the matter at hand. Since they were getting distracted with the orange lady and her learn-languages-by-kissing power, they might as well take a break from that conversation and segway into another.

"Just passing through. Didn't know the locals were so unfriendly," robot guy answered.

"What he said," cloak girl agreed.

So very trusting, these people were. Not a single name to go with them

"You're not the only people they've been attacking. I myself have been targeted and I have no idea why," he said frankly, feeling that maybe a little honesty from him might prompt these other people to be honest in return.

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Cassie butted in wryly, arms crossed. Uh oh, he had, heh, kinda forgotten about her. She was still around? "You're a very annoying guy who doesn't mind his own business." Which each word, she took a step closer to him until she was starting to invade his personal space. "The way I see it, I think you might have stuck your nose into someone else's business and dragged the rest of us along with you."

Now the masked teen was getting looks from robot man and cloak girl. "Anything true about that?" robot man asked, his tone pleasant, but there was a promise that if he didn't like the answer, someone was going to get hurt. That someone was most likely Tim himself.

"The only business I've been, using your words here, 'sticking my nose into' has been yours. You're the only person I know who's been breaking into people's homes and stealing from them." That might have come out as a little self-righteous, but he was not going to let Cassie put this all on him. He was absolutely sure he was not responsible for this. Sort of.

"And what are you supposed to be? One of those crazy people from Gotham, dressing up like Batman and trying to fight crime?" Cassie spat back, almost growling.

This next part was a bit impulsive of him, but he couldn't let that jab get past him. "Actually I did come from Gotham," he retorted, clenching his fists at his sides and leaning closer to the armored blonde.

"Wait, you came from Gotham? Like, Gotham Gotham? As in, the Gotham that Batman is in Gotham?" robot man asked rapidly, his single human-looking eye wide.

"Yeah," Tim said slowly, realizing that acting so impulsively may not have been a good idea.

"So you met him? You met _the_ Batman, right?" robot guy pressed.

"A few times. Got to work with him a couple." Okay, he was not sure why he gave that answer of all answers. Should have something like it was none of robot guy's business or whatever. Hmm, he was kinda going between calling him robot man and robot guy. An actual name would be much better that using that description as one.

"Dawg, no way. No freaking way! Aw man, it's true! Dang, you gotta introduce me sometime!" robot man exclaimed. "You met _the Batman_! Shit, this is crazy!"

Looks like he met another Bat-fan. How nice.

"I do not know who this Man of Bats is, but he seems highly respected," the orange lady commented, reminding everyone that she was here too.

"So you met Batman, big whoop," Cassie interrupted once. Say, didn't she sound a little...jealous? Ooh, someone was jelly. "What's a guy like you doing in Jump? Trying to pick up where you left off because you couldn't hack it in the big city?"

"Isn't Jump a city too?" He did not like what she was insinuating.

"Gotham is a bigger city," Cassie quipped.

"Wasn't there a dirty bomb detonated there?" cloak girl piped up.

Yes, great reminder of what he had left. Seemed like these people were getting more information about him than he was of them. Really needed to do better, Drake.

"Long story short, things got really crazy, and I needed a change of scenery. Plus when the Batman tells you you need to leave, you leave. There's no negotiation. Anyone want to know more? Good, because what I want to know are some names." There, that was a good segway there.

"Yeah, not really big on the names part," robot guy said, putting a hand behind his head. Was he scratching something back there?

"Funny you should ask that since you have yet to give one of your own," cloak girl observed.

"I am Koriand'r of the planet Tamaran, political exile and fugitive from the Citadel and their Gordanian slavers," orange lady introduced herself. When three incredulous looks were directed at her, she looked confused. "Are we not sharing our names and storybacks with one another as asked of us?"

"Had you come a few years earlier, I would not have believed the part about aliens. I do now, and it explains that kissing stuff a bit. Not really, but more than it did earlier," robot guy shrugged his shoulders as he spoke.

"Is it not courtesy to exchange such information at introduction?" Kori—something something wondered out loud.

"It is not courteous to walk up behind someone and force your lips onto theirs," cloak girl remarked with the same wry tone Cassie had used earlier. "Since you have taken the pain to provide us information about yourself, I see no reason not to reciprocate."

"I hoped that I had apologized for that," Kori-however-you-said-the-last-part-of-her-name said, looking a bit downcast at the mention of her previous action. Not that Tim was complaining about it.

"My apologizes for opening old wounds. You may call me Rachel," cloak girl continued. Ah, a normal sounding name at last.

"Are you sure you should be giving your name out like that?" robot guy asked the newly-named Rachel.

"And what would a political exile like Koriand'r do with such information?" Rachel quipped back.

"Good point. I guess you can call me Victor, if you want," robot man threw out, looking a bit awkward.

Rachel and Victor. Korian—how did that last part go? And Cassie right next to him. Finally, some kind of progress.

"What about you, Red? Aren't you going to share too?" And speak of the devil. Cassie was hoping to share some of Victor's awkwardness. "You seem like a Dick to me."

Hardy har har. That was the other guy. "Good guess, but wrong." He couldn't help the smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Now, now, since we're all being good girls and boys, then we should be sharing and caring, _right_?" Oh, he knew what this game was. Since he already knew what her name was, she was going to take advantage of the situation to get his. While he may not be the best conversationalist, he wasn't stupid.

"Well, you said it yourself. I think Red is as good as any name I could give," he said.

"Your name is actually Red?" Victor asked dubiously.

"From Gotham, remember? We don't give real names there. Too much of a risk."

"Hey, we gave ours. Had I known you were going to pull this, I would've given a fake one myself," Victor argued.

"And you're the idiot for confirming your name is Victor," Rachel replied.

A lot of opening the mouth and saying nothing was Victor's response.

"Is it common on this planet to not share such personal information?" Kor—now he was forgetting the rest of that name again—wondered again.

"Only select individuals with different experiences that did not end well," Rachel answered diplomatically. "Very well, Red. Since that is the name you preferred to be known as."

Whoa, whoa, hold on. He didn't want to be known as Red! But shit, he couldn't give his real name either!

"I'm detecting some hesitation there. Is there anything you'd like to add?" Rachel asked pleasantly.

Well, Barbara had told him that he had needed to come up with a new name. Guess this was as good a time as any. "Well, the name I'm going by is...uhh...Red...Robin."

"Red Robin," Cassie repeated, both of her eyebrows rising. Tim knew that look; it was the "I can't believe you're that lame" look.

"Could use some work. Have you tried Bird Boy?" Victor added helpfully.

"Not happening," Tim deadpanned. Ahem, he meant, Red Robin. Uhh, Victor was right, that did need some work.

"And who are you?" Now Victor was turning to Cassie. "Wonder Girl? You look like a Wonder Girl. Say, have you met Wonder Woman?"

"No, I am not Wonder Girl. And no, I have not met Wonder Woman," Cassie stated through clenched teeth.

"Huh. Bit of a let down there."

"What is it about this woman who is wonderful?" K...Ko… Why couldn't he remember or say that name right? The orange alien asked her question curiously.

"All you need to do is look at her and you'll know where the Wonder part comes in," Victor told her. That was not a bad answer, actually.

At that moment, as Red Robin looked away from the robotic Victor, he spotted something that made his eyes narrow. "Excuse me for a second."

"Hmm? Where're you going?" Victor called out after him as the vigilante made his way towards the edge of the ruined basketball court. Coming to a stop, he gazed down on his find and let his smirk return.

"I think I know how we can find out why those guys were attacking us," he said out loud, speaking to the other four. Rachel was the one who came up behind him to see what he had found.

Said find was the green-skinned animal morpher who remained knocked out on the ground. He was mostly bare-skinned with the exception of dark-colored trunks that snuggly pressed against his waist region and upper thighs. Looks like his buddies had forgotten about him.

"Who's that?" Cassie asked, surprising the vigilante with that fact that now she too was sneaking up on him.

Recalling his fight with this unconscious boy and linking it to another occasion, Red Robin answered, "Remember the blood bank? That rhino and elephant and gorilla that you fought? I think he was one of the two we came across. What are the odds he shows up here. He might know something."

"That right," Cassie grunted, her interest obviously roused.

"From what I have gathered, I am guessing he's a shapeshifter," Rachel commented. "How do you propose to question him if he is capable of altering himself into another form? I can bet that holding him long enough to get some questions answered may prove more difficult than you realize."

That was a really, really good point there. Plus, even if he could hold someone who was a, ahem, shapeshifter, where would he hold him? There was no way that little hideout Barbara had appropriated for him was going to be the place. Too many explosives stored there.

"Not like we have a place either," Victor offered out. "And I don't think our resident E.T. has a three-bedroom home and a white picket fence of her own.

"Yes, I am very destitute," said E.T. agreed.

Speaking of homes and white picket fences, there was no way he would bring this guy to his own home. His parents would ask a lot of questions. The kind of questions he did not want to answer.

But there was one home that didn't have any parental supervision in it.

"I think I know a place," he said, sparing a look over to Cassie.

Cassie, in return, returned his look, but her's still had curiosity in it. She hadn't connected the dots just yet.

That was going to be so much fun when she did.

* * *

Cassie could not believe how this had happened. How the hell had Red figured out where she lived and that her mom was out of the country and wouldn't be coming back so soon?

Facebook page. Of course. The website that had ended many a criminal's career.

But wait, there was no way she was going to let anybody who could change their body into a wild animal into her house to potential wreck it.

"I believe I might be able to help with that," Rachel had offered. "I know a technique that could for a temporary amount of time block whatever change in shape our changeling may take. It won't last long, so you'll need to be quick about your interrogation."

Which sounded like a bunch of baloney to her. It wasn't like it was their homes they were bringing some strange, green-skinned boy into to hold for who knew how long. It was hers! And her mom would be so suspicious if anything happened, like say a giant hole caused by a grizzly bear or whatever. She was the one really taking the risk here!

And against her will too.

But wait. There was more. Because somehow "Red Robin" knew where she lived. How? Seriously, how did he know that? Was he a stalker when he wasn't busy annoying the shit out of her? And no, he could _not_ use Facebook as a reason.

But wait. There was more than that last bit. Not only was she being forced, against her will she would repeat, to bring their little prisoner home, she got—hold on, let's count them up, one, two, three— _three_ visitors making camp in her living room. Four if you count that masked little shit, which she didn't by the way.

And weren't they just the nicest of visitors? No. Because they weren't sitting on the damn couch like good little visitors, oh no. "Rachel" was looking through and snorting at her mom's book collection. Victor was poking around the TV and stereo system, like he was trying to keep busy or something. Kori—short for that weird name she gave—was in the kitchen inspecting all the appliances.

"I must applaud you on your torture chamber. Many of the devices here look like they could cause excruciating amounts of pain."

You heard that right. A torture chamber, her kitchen. Right.

Then, "Are these foodstuff you keep in your torture chamber? Are these to feed your prisoners or another form of torture? May I have some after we are done torturing our prisoner?"

It was up to her to correct any and all misinterpretations. You know, since "Rachel" or Victor couldn't be bothered to do it. It didn't help that they had also tied their green "prisoner" to a kitchen chair anyway, so as you can imagine convincing this self-declared political exile took some effort.

Apparently, the alien had never seen a kitchen before and couldn't say if they had any on Tamaran. For a person who knew how to kick ass, she gave off the impression that she was sheltered. Very, very sheltered.

Once educated, Kori had taken vigil around the refrigerator where she was discovering the mustard. While Cassie could care less about the condiment, the alien had gone overboard about it, demanding to know what this "yellow substance" was. The dreamy look that took over Kori's face as she repeated the word mustard was a bit disturbing.

Oh, she was really going to let Red have it once she got her hands on him. She did not need this in her life. Where did he ever get the idea that this was a smart thing to do?

Leaning against a wall where she would have a view to both the kitchen and living room, Cassie kept watch on her unconscious guest while glancing to her peripherals to make sure she knew where the other three were. Who knew where Red was, probably trying to Batman it up to impress everybody. Sheesh, get a life, kid.

Hearing a door open nearby, it took the armored girl a second to mentally map out the first floor then eliminate all rooms that had no doors compared to the ones that did. There weren't many, other than the master bedroom, a guestroom, the small laundry room, and a bathroom. Since the entrance to the laundry room was in the kitchen, and that door hadn't opened, that left, three of four other rooms.

Red was going to be a dead man if he came out her mom's room. No one went in there unless they were herself or had a death wish. As the menace himself came into view, adjusting one of his gloves, she was able to detect a sound. It was low, not harsh but not soft either. Kinda sounded like…

Cassie narrowed her eyes further. So he thought he could walk into her home and use her bathroom to piss or shit, or whatever he did that involved a toilet, and expected to not get reamed for it? He was not a welcomed guest in her home. Oh no. Her tolerance had not only been reached, but crossed over. No more forcing anything else on her, that bastard was—

A groan from the tied up, green boy interrupted her inner rant and redirected her attention to him instead. He was frowning a bit, some of his facial muscles twitching, and his body was trying to make itself more comfortable. Given, these chairs weren't the most comfortable pieces of furniture to sit on in the first place, so add in that bungie rope and he was fighting a losing battle. As the groans continued, to her it seemed like someone was regaining consciousness.

"Yo, I think he's waking up," she called to the others. All but Kori had turned to face their prisoner, said alien more content to rifle through the fridge a little while longer.

Rachel was coming over and taking her place behind the green boy. Her lips were moving, like she was saying some words, but Cassie couldn't hear them. Instead, the dark-haired, cloak-wearing girl held her hands on either side of the green boy's head and—okay, her eyes were entirely black. That wasn't off putting in the slightest.

Red Robin took center stage, standing in front of their captive and waiting for green eyelids to open so they could start this thing.

About damn time too.

* * *

Despite her assurances, Ti—Red Robin was a little wary when the green captive's eyes finally blinked opened, looking around blearily in a way the vigilante could sympathize with. He himself felt that way after a night of too little sleep, which happened more often than not. Big surprise there.

The expectation that a green-colored tiger would lunge at him and rip out his throat was alive and well, and not at all paranoid. Why? Because once Greenie realized where he was, he made a show of fighting against the bungee cords restraining him all the while opening and shutting his mouth like he was trying to bite something.

Red Robin raised an eyebrow at the display, though his mask kinda hid that. Oh well, he'd settle until the guy figured out what was up. Hmm, what was that? Oh, he was making the sounds an animal would, growls and whines and all. So any and all growls, shorts, whines, and roars were intentional. Unless they were unconscious. Something to think about for another day.

Wow, he was still going at it. What once was a comical act was starting to become a little pathetic. How long was it going to take for the Greenie to—

"Hey, what gives?!"

—there we go.

This was a time for him to say something that would establish his dominance in the situation. It needed to be good, and what do you know, Red Robin happened to have something already in mind. He opened his mouth to say—

"You really pulled through there. Didn't think you could do it for a second," Victor remarked, completely ruining the vigilante's moment.

"Did you expect anything less," Rachel replied, her eyes still completely black. Since she was speaking normally, it took away a little the creepiness factor.

"Hey, you're doing this!" the green boy accused bending his head back as much as he could to try and glare at the cloak-wearing girl behind him. It was one of the least intimidating sights ever seen between the group. "Stop it!"

"That depends. Can we trust you not to shapeshift and destroy this nice looking home?" Rachel asked pointedly.

"Get your hands away from my head and I'll think about it," Greenie growled.

"Then your answer is no."

"Aw, come on! What...what if I promise not to? Then will you do it?"

"Since you already did not give us a good answer, ours is still no."

"How about if I pinky promise?"

"Dude, that's like grade school," Victor butted in, folding his mechanical arms over his broad chest.

"It is? Uh, what's the grown-up version?" the green-colored captive asked.

"There isn't any," Victor deadpanned.

"You sure?" Someone wasn't willing to give up, it seemed.

"Can we get on with this?" Cassie interrupted, half-growling her little order.

With whatever dignity he could muster, Red Robin decided he would be the one to do just that. "Look kid, we don't like this as much as you do. So let's get down to business, make this quick. You answer some questions we have—"

"You have," the armored Amazon-wannabe grumbled.

"—and we'll see about making this as painless as possible. Are you willing to cooperate?" he finished, ignoring the peanut gallery.

Greenie was quiet for a moment. Then, with a noticeable sulk, "The ropes are starting to chafe my skin."

"We'll do something about the ropes if you tell us about those friends of yours," Red Robin proposed.

Green eyes narrowed. "Why would I say anything about that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll give you a reason to really cry," Cassie threatened, pushing away from the wall she was leaning on and holding up a fist. Yes, there was still armor on said fist, so whatever ideas she had to use it for were _not_ going to be family friendly.

It had the intended effect of scaring their prisoner, but not getting the info they needed. "Don't let the scary lady over there near me, man!" There was more struggling with the rope.

"Give us something first, then I'll see about that." More negotiating, but Red Robin was not about to let this get sidetracked anymore than it already had.

"No way, dude! Nuh uh! You're not getting anything out of me!" Greenie refused, shaking his head left to right to emphasize his refusal. His chin was pointed outward and his eyes closed tightly added to the effect.

"Then I guess I'll let…" the vigilante paused, wondering what to call Cassie. Definitely not by her first name since she hadn't given it to the others and he was feeling a bit possessive over that knowledge. Didn't want to show all his cards too early. What was it that Victor called her earlier? Oh right! "...Wonder Girl over there use you as a punching bag. She looks like she could work out some steam."

The glare she threw at him was totally worth it.

"You can't do that! I have rights!" the tied up green captive protested, eyes snapping open in horror.

"You do? What are they?" Red Robin asked pleasantly.

A second of hesitation. "I don't know what they are, but I'm sure I have them! I think you're violating the Rome Statute or something like it!"

"That's about war crimes and genocide," Victor corrected.

"You sure? But a bunch of people on Facebook brought it up once," argued their captive.

"And those people were stupid, Green Bean," Victor countered.

"Since you can't name any rights, you're at our mercy now," Red Robin butted in. "Talk to me, Green Bean. Why are your friends trying to kill us?"

"Kill you? I thought we were going after you?" Green Bean responded, looking confused.

"So your friends really are after us," the cyborg beside the vigilante stated. "Whoever told you that you just coming to come after us?"

"I...um...I really wasn't paying that much attention. All I heard was 'we need to go after these guys.'" Surprisingly, he lowered his voice as if imitating another person. "So we did."

Red Robin met the looks of both Cassie and Victor, the latter for confirmation and the former to gloat. "So who told you to come after us?"

As if realizing he had slipped up, Green Bean clammed up. Or tried to. "I'm not supposed to be saying anything! Come on, let me go! I promise not to tell anybody what I told you!"

Which wasn't really much. Just confirmation of what was already suspected.

"Buddy, your friends have already come after us twice. Both times, they tried to kill us. There's no way we're letting you out of our sights, Grass Stain." Victor was the one to put his metal foot down.

"Maybe I can try and talk them out of it?" Green Bean offered.

"It's been in my experience that once someone is sent to kill you, they're not going to stop," Red Robin shot that offer down. And there it went, in flames and smoke. "No they're going to keep coming and coming until we're all dead. And you know why."

"Seriously, I don't!"

"Who would be dumb enough to not pay attention when they are told to go out and kill four people?" the vigilante retorted, not expecting an answer to that.

"I am!" Green Bean claimed.

Now there were four looks staring at the prisoner. Yep, even Rachel who was hovering right over him was looking down on him like she couldn't believe he had said that. You could hear the sounds of seconds ticking by, the silence was that thick.

"Wait…" the green-colored captive said, frowning as if it had occurred to him what he had just said.

"This is going nowhere. Let's get rid of him and call it a night," Cassie stepped up, sharing her thoughts on the matter.

"Yeah, yeah, get rid of me," Greenie agreed.

"I meant that permanently," the blonde, armored bombshell added.

"No, no, no! Don't get rid of me! I'll be good!" Greenie corrected himself. He squirmed beneath the ropes, trying to see if he could put whatever space he could place between himself and the irritated blonde.

"I'm not really a big fan of murder, but what else can we do?" Victor put in his two cents.

"Wait, wait, wait, I'll talk! What do you want to know?" The green prisoner was becoming more and more frantic.

"I don't know, we can't be too sure he'll tell us the truth," the robotic teen threw out as if he hadn't considered anything their captive had said.

"Aw, this can't be it. I just got onto the team! My first mission and I'm the first guy killed off! Like every black dude in a horror movie!" Green Bean wailed.

Whatever sympathy Victor might have had was now gone. "I think I'm rethinking my policy on murder."

"We're not murdering anybody," Red Robin stated.

"I already know who I want to murder," Cassie retorted, giving the vigilante the evil eye.

"This is getting out of hand. I think I can offer another compromise," Rachel interrupted, thankfully Red Robin would add.

"What's that?" the masked teen asked.

"If I focus enough, I do believe I would be able to enter his mind, however little of that he has," the cloaked girl explained. "A lot of it will be emotional content, but it will not require anybody to ask pointless questions that this guy here is not answering."

There was a gasp from the kitchen. The alien girl was entering the interrogation now. "You mean to say you can read minds?" She spoke with a tone of awe, and her expression was very child-like.

"To an extent. Anything too deep, and that's beyond me," Rachel elaborated.

"I did not know you were capable of such. You remind me of the Kalanorians, despots of the galaxy who read the minds of their future slaves and washed their brains to make them obedient. For the longest time they were unbeatable until recently."

Why did the name Kalanorian seem familiar? Hmm, Victor had stilled a bit. He'd have to ask him about that later. To the more pressing matter, should the teen vigilante give the okay for this invasive procedure so that they could get the information they needed? There was something about it all that made Red Robin hesitate about it.

"If it will get this guy out of my kitchen, let's do it." There was the first vote, and surprise, surprise, guess who it came from. Not that he could blame her, as the vigilante was figuring out. Who wanted to debate moral ramifications of pulling information out of someone's head against their will while in your own home? Cassie hadn't been happy from the beginning, and it was a good guess that she would remain unhappy until they were finished here.

"If this guy won't cooperate, then what other choice do we have? Wait until he feels like it? There are people trying to kill us. We need to know everything," Victor pointed out. "At the same time," he unexpectedly continued, "I wouldn't want anybody doing that me. That's like a huge invasion of privacy right there."

Both really good points. "So where do you stand?" Red Robin asked.

Putting a metal hand against his half-human, half-robot face and dragging it down, the half-robotic teen looked very conflicted. "I don't know. I really need to think about this one."

"Don't take forever. Remember, this is _my_ home and everyone here is intruding," Cassie growled.

"I do not know if I have an ample reason to consult on this, but I would argue not to intrude on the sanctity of our prisoner's mind," the alien lady spoke up. "I know too many races that do so without consideration of the individual whose mind is being invaded. It poses to cause great harm in ways that cannot be seen with the optical organ. It is not a nice feeling to have either."

"You speak from experience?" Victor asked, concern filling his voice.

Their resident alien did not answer, but she did not need to. That was answer enough.

"Yeah, I don't think we can—" the vigilante began to voice his veto, only to once again be interrupted by someone else. This was happening a lot lately.

"I'm done," Rachel announced.

Four pairs of eyes turned to her. "Uh, what do you mean by done?" the cybernetic resident asked cautiously.

"I entered his head and gained the information we needed," Rachel said off-handedly.

"Already?!" Red Robin squeaked.

"You were taking too long debating the merits and morality of it. To protect you from any quandaries you'd face, I took the initiative and did a sweep." Rachel was keeping her voice very monotoned as she spoke. "There is something not right about him."

"Other than the fact that he has green skin?" Victor guessed as he lowered his gaze to their captive. Said captive had been very silent recently, and his green eyes had this glazed look about them. Oh, that was the mindreading thing, wasn't it?

Damn. Well, nothing for it. "What did you find?" the masked teen asked, wanting to make the best out of a bad situation.

"Other than a lack of intelligence and survival instinct? There has been a lot of manipulation to this brain," the cloaked girl reported. "Specifically of the magical kind. Someone with arcane knowledge deliberately altered Garfield's memories here."

"Altered?" That was Cassie, who looked like she was starting to get into this now.

"I saw a lot of stuff that didn't add up. That's usually a sign of magically-induced brainwashing," Rachel explained as she pulled her hands away from Garfield's head, her eyes resuming their natural dark-blue color. "For the most part, he was telling the truth. He wasn't paying attention to the order. However, I did get a name of who wants us dead."

"That's a good start," Victor remarked.

"He goes by the name Brother Blood. According to the memories I was able to see, he 'rescued' our green menace here, though the details from what are conspicuously missing."

Hmm, Blood. He had come across that name fairly recently. The owner of that blood bank had the last name Blood. Was there a connection? Oh, and said guy Blood was involved with a church with a dubious reputation. And wasn't Brother a title in some religious circles? That was a lot to look into.

"So a nutjob named Brother Blood wants to kill us, why? And he's messing around with other people's heads. Why does he sound like a Saturday Morning cartoon villain?" Cassie asked and complained at the same time.

"That information I did not find. What I did find was that he knows where you live," Rachel replied.

Cassie stilled. "This Brother Blood knows where I live too?"

Rachel shook her head in the negative. "Brother Blood doesn't know. Garfield here, on the other hand, does. He followed after Red Robin and you last night. He saw you enter this building. Yes, he knows this is your home."

Red Robin felt a chill as the armored blood turned cold eyes on him. "Is that so?" she rumbled.

"So we can't let him know without risking him letting his lips loose around a guy who wants us dead," Victor quickly summed up. "Is anybody here starting to think murder is a good idea now?"

"Uhh, what did I miss," the now named Garfield as he finally came to, looking over all of them. "Um, why are you all looking at me like that?"

Hate say it, but murder really was looking like a good option right now.


	14. The Brohood of Damon and Pythias

The Brohood of Damon and Pythias

"I do believe you have seen better days," Brother Blood remarked, taking in the bedraggled sight of his finest Ravagers.

Said Ravagers looked anything but fine. Warblade was more than aware of the damage to himself. The missing blades on one hand, the fact that a portion of his mask had broken off to reveal the face beneath it, and all the miscellaneous imperfections that combat forces on a person were all huge clues to this.

Beside him, Mother Mayhem looked at the filthy teen with no little contempt. How dare he appear before their master in such a state must be what she was thinking.

"For your sake, I hope you are delivering good news," Blood said with an almost whimsical tone. The implication that anything else would not be good for the Ravager's leader's health was clear.

Too bad he didn't have good news.

"The targets remain alive," Warblade reported, more than willing to accept his punishment. He had no other choice but to. The sooner he got it out of the way, hopefully the sooner he could get back to that hunt. Those little pests were going to pay for this one way or another.

"You dare return in failure? Looking like this?" Mother Mayhem exclaimed, eyes alight with fury. Any further admonishments were stopped when Brother Blood held a hand up, demanding silence from her.

"Is there anything else you would like to report?" Blood asked mildly. Despite that tone, there was nothing good about hearing it. The Ravager was standing on thin ice as it was.

"We've had someone intervene for them as we were about to carry out your orders," Warblade stated. No sense putting out there that they had made _two_ attempts. That would be digging a deep grave even deeper.

"Oh? Pray tell, who is this interloper and why are they repelling my finest warriors?" Blood had spoken in that mild tone still but there was an unquestioning demand for information. Specifically, the kind that better absolve this assassination squad of their failures.

"I don't know. It's a female with orange skin, red or orange hair, and she made herself known by...kissing one of the targets." Best to go all in. Anything shred of information left out could mean the difference between life and death. Either that or a lot of pain and agony. Either or, both were things Warblade wanted to avoid. By the look of Brother Blood's face, the older man was surprised and interested in that bit of info. "Afterwards, she took on each Ravager and beat us in single combat. When she wasn't using hand-to-hand, she was creating these balls of green light that blew up when she fired them."

"She knows how to fight and comes with her own abilities," Brother Blood concluded. A moment of silence reigned as the master of the sect thought on the developments. "Tell me, Ravager, is she beautiful?"

"Brother!" Mayhem protested, scandalized.

"There is no harm in inquiring into an interloper's looks," Blood dismissed her concerns, waving a hand and everything. Then to Warblade, "Well?"

"When I wasn't fighting her, she did look nice-looking. Gorgeous?" the teen answered hesitantly.

"You don't sound confident about that last one, Ravager."

"Yeah, I'm kinda stuck between that and beautiful," he corrected himself awkwardly.

"You don't say." A smile was curving Blood's lips, though it was a smile that did not bode well for whom it was directed to.

"Brother Blood, what is the purpose of these questions?" Mayhem inserted herself back into the briefing.

"It's simple, Mother. We have a foreign element forcing its way into our business. That she can fight off warriors of the Ravager's skill and ranking is nothing to scoff at. I find myself curious in that I wonder if this female could become an asset," Blood explained. "Imagine, a sister under your charge with unmatched combat abilities and powers we ourselves have yet to encounter. What if she became a teacher for our militant wing? Would that not increase the might of my men and servants?"

That gave Mayhem some pause. "I would need to see her skills for myself," she admitted carefully.

"There is also the balls of green light. What powers does she possess and can they be replicated? Imagine if my forces could go toe-to-toe with the Gods that make up the Justice League? I would be a fool not to make such an attempt," the older man continued. "And should she prove herself capable, there may be another future available for her. The conception of new life."

"But Brother! Why would you have need of another sow?!" Mayhem all but exclaimed.

"Because if I am to be toppled, it had best be one more powerful than myself and no other. And allow me to inform you, my dear Mother, I do not intend to relinquish my position anytime soon, if ever." Blood's voice had changed, becoming far colder and uncompromising. It sent a shiver down Warblade's spine at the sound of it. "Say what you will about my predecessor, but we both know he was weak. That that man's blood flows through my veins is an insult to my very being."

"O-of course, Brother." Mayhem was backing down, and quickly. A sight Warblade would have enjoyed had the circumstances been different.

"A consultation with the Sisters is warranted on this matter," Blood remarked with a chuckle, returning to a more affable demeanor. Turning to the teen, "For the time being, you shall stand down and resume training until I give you your next assignment. When I call for you again, you had best be ready and any failure afterwards will not be tolerated. That you bring me such a report on a promising new recruit is the only reason I am sparing you this day. However, if I find out that you have left something else out, then our next meeting will be very unpleasant for you. You know how I will find out. Use that as your motivation and sharpen your skills on top of your blades. You are dismissed."

Warblade could not have left that office any sooner. Too bad that someone was waiting on the other side.

"So how did it go?" Phobia taunted. "Should I be preparing to move into your quarters? They are far nicer than my own."

"Shove it, bitch," Warblade growled as he marched ahead. "I'm still living and leading."

"Pity."

Spinning around, he snapped into her face, "Don't be getting proud of yourself. Just because you kept the cops busy with your little illusions so they wouldn't break up our fight doesn't mean you're in the clean to take over after me. If I go down, you're going down with me. All of you are."

Phobia sniffed at him. "You always were too proud for your own good."

"I have a reason." He grinned maliciously at her. "Speaking of which, round the clock training. Starting now. The next time we get the go ahead, we're taking those little punks out once and for all, and no one will be stopping me ripping out their entrails."

"You say that now, but it is in your best interest that Brother Blood not find out that you lost one of our new recruits," Phobia mocked back as she took the lead down the hallway. "For some reason, he was very fond of little Garfield's powers. That may be enough that he'll take the difference out of your hide."

Well, maybe not all information had to be told. After all, even a little bit could mean the difference between life and death. And that piece of info would have buried him in his own grave.

* * *

Social Studies had never been too much of a problem for the Drake boy. Much of the information he needed could be gotten just by reading the book. It's not like the school made such a big deal out of it unless it was for state assessments. The teacher for this class was one of the coaches for the basketball team, that's how much the place was invested in it.

That meant that while he was checking in periodically to the little film the coach/teacher decided to bring in for the day, Tim could analyze and puzzle through everything he had managed to get out of Garfield/Green Bean the night before.

Someone by the name of Brother Blood wanted him dead along with three others. Those three were Victor and Rachel, who had been attacked the night before as well, and Cassie even though she was attacked only last night. That Garfield had deliberately lured her instead of him was the key factor in that revelation.

The answer to why this Blood guy wanted them dead was unknown. The important piece of detail had either not been told to the little green guy or it had been ignored. Rachel could not give anything definitive on that note.

Did it have to do with the blood bank? That was the only time he had run into the name Blood, and that was with the owner Sebastian Blood. A little digging had only brought up results that Blood was talking with his insurance over the damages to the building.

However, only Cassie and himself had been involved with that. Victor and Rachel had only arrived in the city recently. At least, that was what they had told him. Something was missing here. But what? What linked the four of them together that someone named Blood wanted them dead? He couldn't be sure that Sebastian Blood and Brother Blood were one and the same and until he could get further confirmation…

Which, how did he do that? He wasn't Batman. He didn't scare people just by looking at them. And also he had no idea where Blood lived, even if he could terrify the guy. Unlisted address, who'd thought?

The dark-haired teen hadn't had a mystery like this in a long, long time.

The targets were an eclectic bunch. You had him, a teen vigilante from Gotham. There was Cassie who was a transplant from Gateway and had a suit of armor with her. Next was Victor who was half-human, half-machine from who knew where. Lastly, there was Rachel who could read minds and other funky stuff, also from who knew where. All of them oddballs, all from different places, yet all connected somehow.

Somehow…

It was frustrating trying to force the whole thing together and still have an incomplete picture. This made no sense. Simple as that.

In the meantime, since it had been brought up that Garfield knew where he was being held, and since the talks about homicide had ended up going nowhere, the green boy had to be held in the Sandsmark home. Cassie, predictably and understandably, did not like it. Since Victor stuck out like a sore thumb, he wasn't leaving until nightfall, and even then had no place to go. The alien lady they had picked up also had nowhere to go and was sticking around. Oddly, Cassie wasn't arguing over that one. Last but not least, there was no telling what Rachel was going to be doing. So far she was sticking around too, and no, she gave no reason for it.

So the four of them were keeping watch on their prisoner until Tim returned as the newly dubbed Red Robin and the talks of murder resumed. Because of his special education in his hometown, Tim was strictly against any possibility of murder. Killing someone, even if to maintain a secret, was wrong. It also felt wrong. No ifs, no ands, no buts about it.

Tuning in to make sure he wasn't missing anything important from the small television mounted on the wall, he took in the old-timey picture from the dated documentary about the colonial period in North America. Pretty much the boring stuff before the Revolutionary War, where things got more exciting. Damn, he already knew this stuff and that was from a previous grade.

Anyway, back to something far more interesting. Killing was off the table. Cassie was very much on board for it. Victor was iffy. Nothing from the alien lady whose name he couldn't pronounce just yet. And Rachel didn't care one way or the other.

Tim swore, he may have to save that green shapeshifter's life before this was all over. Bad enough that Cassie was a thief, but to add murder to it? Taking her down was coming back as a more immediate issue instead of, you know, trying to avoid murder from a group that he later found out called themselves the Ravagers.

Ah yes, the group of assassins with all sorts of superpowers like some kind of anti-Justice League. Who knew the west had such threats in it? Made him wish to return to the eastern seaboard.

You know, this is not what he had been expecting when he chose to resume his night job. The teen could only wonder what his old partners would think of him right now. Come to think of it, he could bluntly ask and find out. They were both an earpiece call away, after all.

Which was not going to happen. Oh, he would be in so much trouble. More than he already was and frankly didn't need more of. This whole assassination plot thing would have to be resolved on his own. Maybe with the help of the others but that was no sure thing.

Doing a quick tune in to the documentary, taking note that the coach wasn't paying attention to anyone unless it was to tell them to "shut up," and he was reassured that he wasn't going to be called out any time soon.

The best way to end this kind of threat was to find out who and where this Brother Blood was. Easier said than done, but maybe that's where Garfield could be of more help. There may be a lot of important information he didn't know, but the green captive had to know where he had been based prior to his capture. Intel on the layout, what to expect, who and what to avoid, and the most likely location of where Blood was holing himself up were the most important details.

Perhaps that was a good starting point. At the very least, it gave him a battle plan to take with him when he returned to Cassie's home. Hopefully, Rachel wouldn't have to pull that information out of his head too. That mindreading stuff and what you could do with it, that too didn't really sit well with him.

Heh, what were the odds Garfield would have given his permission for that too?

When the bell finally rang, a very loud but dull noise, Tim was one of the first to pick up his backpack and leave the classroom. Everyone else was busy taking their time, talking with one another, and other stuff the brooding teen had not paid attention to. So he left them eating his dust, what of it?

However, his journey to his next class came to a sudden halt, and no, it wasn't because he had run into someone. More like he saw someone he had least expected to see.

Like twenty feet away and chatting with some girls was, surprisingly, Cassie. Here. In his new school. What was she doing here and why wasn't she at her home watching their prisoner?

There was a strong urge to march over there and demand an answer, but quickly he figured out how bad of an idea that was. The biggest infraction would have been revealing his own identity to the thieving girl and doing so in a very public place. It was still one-sided that he knew her identity, but she didn't know his.

Oh, this was going to be eating him up for the rest of the day.

Apparently, he had been staring at her too long, because a fellow student came up beside him, figured out who he was looking at, and decided to take mercy on him. "Get a good look, new kid. What you're looking at is a unicorn. Probably never going to see that for the rest of the year."

Peeling his eyes off the sight of Cassie behaving like an ordinary teen girl, Tim turned to his adolescent benefactor. "What do you mean by that?"

"That's Cassie. Cassie Sandsmark. She doesn't really show up to school often. Which really sucks because she's easily the best looking girl here," the student told and complained to him.

The shellshocked teen grunted, whether in an "I don't care" tone or in agreement was left to the listener. So on top of being a thief, Cassie was also a truant. In the grand scheme of things, that was really underwhelming.

Then for maybe a second or two, Cassie's blue eyes found his, and the dark-haired teen quickly looked away. Crap, got caught staring. Time to retreat and try not to do anything stupid. Too bad that to get to his next class he would have to go past that small gathering of girls that Cassie had collected. Gripping the straps of his backpack like they were the shreds of his dignity, he started off with a quick pace in his flight.

He wasn't fast enough to not hear one of the girls comment, "I think that kid likes you. He was looking at you."

"Who is he?" the blonde girl had asked in return as Tim began putting distance between them.

"He's new. Moved in a few months ago. Probably the first time he's ever seen you. Personally…"

By then the noise of the hallway was able to sound out any and all conversation from that gaggle, and never more was he happy about that. Talk about awkward.

Okay, so this meant three people he knew very little about were watching over someone who had tried to kill them the night before. There was no way this could end well.

* * *

Somebody had to look after the grass stain they had collected. For not the first time in his life, Victor wondered why he had to draw the short straw. Whatever logic was used that because he was mostly robot, he didn't require as much rest as the others was a bullshit argument.

Yet here he was, keeping a literal eye on Garfield here in a guestroom that belonged to their Amazon acquaintance. Yes, the grass stain himself was still tied to the same chair that Victor himself had carried in here. Rachel had given assurances that he wouldn't be shapeshifting anytime soon and he was inclined to believe her.

Whatever she had done, maybe it was best left unknown.

Now that the tied up guy was not begging for his life or bring questioned within an inch of his life, the cybernetic teen really got a good look at him. It was a bit surprising to see how thin this guy was. It was like he had been malnourished at some point in his life. Another thing that stood out were the ears. The bushy hair kinda hid the fact that they were slightly elongated, like an elf's.

Most of all was the face and how young it looked. It was like he was a kid who hadn't reached puberty yet!

None of it was helped when wide green eyes took the time to look him over and the green-skinned captive asked, "Is all that real?"

With a frown, Victor had asked back, "Is what real?"

"Your arms, your body, your face! It looks like you're some kind of terminator! Or a robot? Are you all robot?"" The questions and words were all rapidfire, like he needed answers and he needed them now!

Seeing no reasons not to answer, the larger teen gave a shrug of his metal shoulders and said, "For the most part. There are parts of me that are still human."

"Whoa." Those eyes were even wider now, and the grass stain's mouth had opened slightly. "Does that mean you're, like, an android?"

"I think the technical term for it is cyborg," the metal teen corrected.

A pause. "So that means you're an android?"

Really wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, was he?

"No, those are two different things."

"What's the difference?"

"A cyborg has both robot and human parts to it. An android is a robot that looks like a human. Has no human parts to it." Don't tell anyone but he had to look that up via Wifi. At that second.

"And you have human parts?"

"I believe I already mentioned that."

"Oh." A minute of silence. "So you're not an android?"

Oh for the love of—!

See why he was not liking guard duty here? He was dealing with an idiot! A celery stick had a higher IQ than this guy! And they were both green! So yeah, there was quite a bit of back and forth with this talking vegetable asking question after question and he, Victor, finding himself answering each and everyone.

He still didn't know why.

After about another hour or so, he finally cracked. "Why are you so interested in this?" There! Now _he_ was the one asking questions! Let's see out this brussel sprout liked it!

"You're the only guy I know who's part robot. I always wanted to be part-robot when I was a kid," Garfield answered, and honestly too.

Victor narrowed his eyes. "Why would you want to be part robot?" That didn't make a lot of sense to him, and he was the one who was actually part-robot. Let him tell you, it was not a walk in the park.

"Who wouldn't?" Garfield exclaimed. "Robots are strong, right? And they can shoot laser beams out of their eyes, right? Like Superman! Only cooler! And you can do all sorts of robot things that you can't do unless you're a robot! Can't you do any of that stuff?"

"Well I am strong," he found himself answering despite how much of a kid this guy sounded like. "I don't think I can shoot laser beams from my eyes, I mean, my eye."

"Have you ever tried?" was the eager follow-up question. Even though he was still tied to a chair, Garfield was leaning forward, waiting impatiently for an answer.

"Not...that I can think of…" Why was he sounding so unsure about that? His memory banks were telling that no, he hadn't tried. Ever.

"Can you try now?" Oh no, back to the rapidfire questions again.

Well, maybe not too rapidfire. At least the green bean was waiting for an answer. Before Victor knew it, he was accessing all data about his robotic body and all its functions. He had never looked at that kind of stuff before. Some of it was obvious, like life-support functions, an energy source that powered his mechanical body, a lot of strength-to-mass ratio equations that his CPU was dumbing down for him—what was all this stuff?

Oh wait, this kind of looked like a manual…

"I can't shoot laser beams from my eye," he said at last.

"Aw, why not?" Garfield complained.

"Manual says I can't."

"You have a manual! What else does it say?" That eagerness was back again.

"Hold your horses, I'm looking," the larger teen grumbled. Lots of servos, very state-of-the-art circuitry, connections to all wireless signals to the internet, internet surfing capabilities. God damn, he was a walking, talking computer! A bit depressing that he had been reduced to nothing more than a glorified laptop. He wasn't even an iPad, and those you could play mobile games on.

"What's wrong? You don't look happy." Oh, was he showing dissatisfaction at his lot in life. Whatever, not that he cared at this point.

"Nothing," he grunted, turning away from the tied up captive. "I need—"

"What else can you do?" said captive wondered.

"Why are you so curious about that?" the cybernetic teen demanded, whipping his head around to shoot an impatient glare at this guy. No, kid. This guy was more like a kid than anything else.

"I think the real question is why aren't you?" the green kid retorted. "I know what I can do. I can become any animal I want. I think. I haven't tried everything yet and there are so many animals out there. I mean, maybe if I tried really hard, I can become every one of them, but right now I can't for some reason. So I'm just a green guy in a pair of shorts. Nothing special about that."

"Yeah, I was meaning to ask about that." Victor's one human eyes flickered down to where said shorts were. A bit tight fitting and black in color. Why the kid wasn't wearing anything else was now the most important topic right now.

"Think about it, clothes are for people, not animals. Every time I become an animal, they rip. For some reason, the tighter my clothes are, the more likely they're not going to be torn apart. Don't know why either," Garfield explained without missing a beat. He even kicked his legs a bit like a little kid would.

"Well, if those don't rip when you change, what happens to them?"

"You know what? I don't know. It's weird." Garfield did his best to shrug his shoulders helplessly, what with the bungee cords wrapped all around his upper body. "But you know what? That never stopped me from seeing all I can do. So what's stopping you?"

"Don't you want to be normal?" That was a question that needed to be asked. Because that's what Victor really wanted. To be normal again. To only have to worry about what normal teenagers worried. You know, like school, homework, football practice, parents, not having a car. The usual stuff.

"Why? Normal is boring. Can't anybody be normal?" Garfield asked back. "When you were a kid, did you want to grow up to be a normal person? Because I know I didn't. I wanted to be a superhero or a rock star or both! What did you want to be when you were a kid?"

Hesitating for a moment, Victor directed his gaze away and muttered under his breath.

"What was that? I didn't hear you," the green kid said, leaning his head forward as if that would help him hear better.

Straightening his shoulders, Victor repeated himself, only a little louder. "I wanted to play in the NFL."

"And how's any of that normal?" Garfield chuckled as he relaxed back in his seat, or as best as anyone tied to a chair could. "How many people get to do that? I know I'm not that smart, but I do know that not many people get to go and play football for a living. Which is still awesome, by the way. To get paid to play a game? Awesome, man. Just awesome."

"Well, I never expected to become half-robot or anything like that," Victor stated, lifting up a hand and staring intently at it. No matter how hard he looked at the limb, it would never become flesh and bone. Forever it would be metal and circuitry.

"And I didn't expect to get green skin. You know, I didn't always have green skin," Garfield said proudly.

"Oh? And what did you used to look like?" A little bemused, the mostly metal teen lowered his hand and returned his gaze to the green captive.

Opening his mouth as if to speak, the little guy stopped, eyes glazing over for a moment. "I...I don't remember. That's weird. I could have sworn…"

There was something not right with this kid frowning. Like such a facial expression didn't belong there.

"Sounds like you've been green so long that you've forgotten what you used to look like," he remarked, hoping that would give some comfort.

"No, no, I know this. Just gotta think what my parents...ow." That frown had deepened until unexpectedly, the kid's face twisted into a wince.

"Ow?" Victor repeated.

"My head started hurting. Like, really hurting. Like pain," Garfield explained. "That happens a lot when I try to think."

This guy…

"You're not really good at thinking, are you?" he said wryly.

"Well, I might not be good at thinking but that means I'm willing to try a lot of stuff without overthinking it," was the defensive reply.

"You tell yourself that." The chuckle the cybernetic teen gave was genuine after that.

"Oh, I do more than...say, I don't know your name. What do I call you? I can't call you robot dude, right?" And wow, that was a quick topic change.

"You don't have to call me anything. For as much as you know, I have no name," Victor stated.

"But what if I get hungry? Or need to go to the bathroom? Who do I call for? You want me to yell for a terminator or something?" Garfield half-complained, half-whined. He kicked his legs in agitation, much like a little kid would.

"Just to let you know, my name is not Arnold and it will never be," Victor said.

"Well, if not Arnold, then what?" The kid was really pushing it. Then, as if a lightbulb had been clicked on in his head, the green captive grew excited as he asked, "Oh! I know! I can I call you the T-800?"

"No," Victor deadpanned.

"Robo-guy?"

"No."

"What about a cylon? Can I call you Cylon?"

"No."

"Dalek?"

"No."

"How about Optimus Prime?"

"No."

"T-1000?"

"While I think that was the best terminator, no."

"Dude, I'm running out of things! Help a brother out!"

"I'm not your brother."

"Wait! What about Robo? No, Robo Hobo!"

"That's insulting, even if I was a hobo for a while."

"You were a real hobo?"

"You know what? Since this means so much to you, just call me, uh…" Come on, Victor, think of something. You couldn't give him your real name, not after what Rachel had said earlier. "...uh, just...Cyborg. You can call me Cyborg."

Yeah, yeah he knew. Lame. Seriously, put on the spot and that was the best he could come up with.

"Dude. That's...that's an awesome name." Green eyes shimmered in awe.

Feeling awkward, Victor raised a hand up and placed in on the back of his head. "You're just saying that."

"No really! It's better than calling yourself Warblade."

"Anything is better than Warblade."

"I know! Right? Right! So Cyborg, what else can you do? Can you turn your body parts into weapons? Can ya, can ya?"

They were back to that again. Something about this kid's enthusiasm was infectious. Victor, or Cyborg, take your pick, was in a better mood. And if it could shut him up a bit, he supposed he could go through that manual again and see what all was up with this body of his.

It wasn't like he was a transformer or anything.

* * *

One thing Terra had noticed was that it was much quieter. Garfield's absence was highly noticed, at least by her, and it was hard to believe that she hadn't figured it out sooner. Seriously, you would have thought that she had kept an eye out for him while fighting, but she hadn't.

Only after they had gotten back and the blonde had had time to catch her breath did she noticed the silence. It wasn't like Garfield talked all the time or anything. He did things loudly, like fidgeting, walking around, even breathing. Christ did he breathe loud, like he couldn't get enough air.

Kinda surprising that she tuned it all out. Amazing what you could ignore once you got used to it.

Right now, she could really use that louder than life presence of his. She was having headaches and everything felt more sensitive. Before anyone asked, no, it was nothing related to that time of the month. That crap affected her emotions and moods more than anything. What she was experiencing now was having a direct effect on her powers.

For instance, even though there was concrete all around, she had always been able to detect the earth hidden behind it. Now, it was as if that concrete didn't exist at all even though it was in plain sight. Also, it felt like she could touch it more and do more with a little less. Didn't make much sense, did it? Well, to explain it, before if she wanted to move a one ton boulder, she would move both her hand and entire arm to do. Now, it felt like if she twitched her finger wrong, she would not only lift that boulder but also everything around it in a twenty-foot radius.

And there was a hum! Not only was it Garfield's breathing that she found she could ignore but also this tectonic hum. It felt like it had always been there but now she was more aware of it. It...it kinda scared her.

How did this all happen? Oh, Terra had a pretty good idea. Before that fight, everything had been normal, she had been fine, she still had Garfield sticking close until Warblade sent him out to lure that armored girl and that guy in the red and black suit. So pretty normal.

Then, as she was teaming up with Windstorm against that girl in the cloak, there had been some kind of backlash. It was hard to describe. This, this energy flooded into her, going through the channels in which she was able to control the earth and everything. It was a huge shock, an overload and she had to sit out after that. Yeah, she tried to make a token effort, but she wasn't feeling too stable to really go all out.

Next thing she knew, the order to withdraw was given and she was back here. Garfield-less. Really, Terra could use someone to talk to, to tell about her new insecurities.

Covering her ears as if it would block out that hum, Terra rocked her body in an effort to soothe herself.

Ignore it, Terra. Just ignore it. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it. You did it with Garfield easily, you could do the same here. Take a deep breathe, yeah, just like that. Let it all out. Do it again. This was not a place to be weak in. The people here would tear you apart.

It wasn't really working. That hum, that goddamn hum was still there, always humming. Why didn't it stop! If only that kid was here to distract her with some inane chatter, she'd have something to focus on.

Uncurling slightly, Terra let her head bump lightly into the wall directly behind her. In her head, she spoke to herself, hoping that maybe an inner monologue could distract or overpower that nonstop hum, stopping it from driving her insane.

 _Come on, get it together already. You could do it before. It wasn't as if this was your first time being alone. You were always alone, weren't you? Sure it was nice to have someone to talk to, but now he's gone. Probably dead. Because you know he would not have left you—no, he wouldn't have left this place. Felt he owed them. Who knew how true that was. What did it matter now, though? It was the old thing again, you all by your lonesome. Only yourself to rely on. Well, you were able to do it once, right? You could do it again. You could…you could…_

"Yo! You! I'm talking to you! Get your fat ass up and get over here. Warblade wants all of us, even you. Don't make me come over there!"

Well, there was an idiot talking, and that seemed enough to get her focused on that and finally ignore that hum if only for a second.

She spotted Windstorm scowling at her. Yeah, yeah, it was nice to see you too. "What's this about?" she asked, expecting to get shot down for daring to question him.

"Warblade wants us all ready for the next time. We're gonna be training until then. Don't hold us back or I'll be the one to rip you a new one, I don't care how powerful you are," the nasty blond sneered. "Stop dragging your feet and get a move on. I am not going to take any shit because of you."

Rolling her eyes, Terra got onto her feet and began following after her, ahem, "teammate." Windstorm may take pride in being a Ravager, but she didn't. She could have cared less about it.

But training, maybe that would help out. Maybe what she needed to do was use her powers a bit. Then maybe, just maybe, that hum would go away.

And she could keep her sanity.


	15. The Approaching Wrath of Uranus

The Approaching Wrath of Uranus

After a search through the cabinets, it was a pleasant surprise to find out that her host had tea. On the downside, it was tea packets. Store bought and mass produced.

Oh well, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Another search around the kitchen concluded with the discovery of a kettle and now it was a waiting game. The stove was on, water was being heated merrily in the kitchen appliance, and Rachel was at ease with the world. Once that spout began whistling, it would be time to feed her habit of watered caffeine once more.

It beat coffee by a mile in her opinion.

The dark-haired girl was eager to spend her wait in solitude. Such times allowed her opportunities to meditate, and knowing herself as well as she did, meditation was a necessity. However, her business in the kitchen had attracted the attention of Koriand'r, the taller, orange female watching her with curious green eyes.

Rachel didn't like eyes on her for any reason. It was only tolerable during conversations, but that was it. Between the two of them, they weren't having a conversation so the staring was not welcomed.

"What?" It was just a means to cease this extraterrestrial from continuing this watching game of hers.

"What are you doing?" Koriand'r asked, not at all repelled. If anything, it appeared the alien had become even more curious.

Seeing no harm in being straightforward, Rachel answered, "I'm brewing myself some tea."

"Oh." No other words were spoken but the cloaked girl continued to have company.

Raising an eyebrow, she inquired, "Is there something you want?"

Koriand'r shook her head in the negative. "Not of this moment. I do not know what this tea you mention is nor do I know how to brew it. I wish to observe and nothing more. Is there some reason that I would not be able to do so? Is there a custom I am violating?"

Rachel gave a sigh. "Not as far as I know. I'm not used to having company, especially female company."

"But you are of the male company?" The orange alien tilted her head to a side, much like how a dog or child would when presenting with information it did not understand.

"Most males I meet up with are...one of a kind, I suppose." That was as neutral a statement as she could give.

"Like how Victor is one of a kind? I have not seen any member of your race with his exact physical features. There were those with the dark-colored skin, but metal they were missing." An innocent remark, and one that brought no offense from Rachel.

"Yes, Victor is indeed one of a kind," she agreed, hoping to put an end to the conversation. Especially since she did not want to have one in the first place.

"You seem uncomfortable. Why is that?" Damn, more questions.

"Contrary to what you may have seen, I am not a social person. I can only take so much interaction before I have to leave any given social situation." There, a patient explanation. Do get the subtle hints in there to go away.

"You seem very close with Victor."

"Special circumstances. He grew on me. Don't think that when and if the time comes and we go our separate ways, I will choose to have him at my side. I won't. There is no grand plan in which myself or anyone else will remain in either's company."

"You like to keep to yourself?"

"Let's say it's better that I keep to myself."

"Why is that?"

A sigh. "There are some things best left unsaid or unknown. This is one of them. Please stop prying."

"Forgiveness. I do not mean to insult or offend you or whatever it is I have done to anger you."

Rachel paused. Anger her? While annoyed, she was not quite angry yet. Everyone would know when and if she was angry. Well, now that she thought about it, her sentences were becoming shorter, more clipped. Maybe this alien transient was picking up on cues that meant something to her in her own culture and nothing to a human one.

"There is nothing to forgive. Let's say I am not used to prolonged conversations, especially ones that hold no interest to me." There, that should be a good answer, right?

"Then you would not mind if I changed the subject? There is something I would ask you that has seized my curiosity."

No kidding. You, curious. That's so new.

At that point, the kettle decided to whistle its merry tune, and it was one that was very welcomed. "Hold on a moment," Rachel said as she moved to the stove. Ignoring any confusion sent her way, the cloaked girl set about her original task.

With an empty mug, she poured the steaming hot water into it, followed by the commercial teabag packet. Taking a second to turn off the stove, a nasty habit of hers not to do so on the onset, she allowed the cloth bag to mix its contents with the boiling water, flavoring it with the tea leaves.

A moment later, she was taking a sip and hiding a grimace at the beverage's weakness. Well, that's what she got for using a commercial product and not the real deal. Again, beggars could not be choosers. At the very least, she did not need to purchase some herself despite the fact she carried no currency on her.

Irrationally, she decided to distract herself from disappointment with the tea to return to satisfying Koriand'r's insatiable curiosity. "So what is on your mind?"

"Cerebrospinal fluid, a cranium, an epidermis, and hair follicles. Why do you ask?"

Not what she meant...

"The question you wished to ask me," Rachel prompted.

"Ah yes. I wished to ask about your mental infiltration of our prisoner. As I mentioned before, there is a race I am informed of capable of the same feat. I am curious if your ability works the same as theirs."

"The...Kalanorians, correct?"

"Precisely."

"I have never met one of those so I could not say for certain. Since this is another evolved race of people, I will not hazard a theory why they are able to read minds. My ability is not biological based."

"Is it psychically based?" The resident alien was leaning forward with interest. Seemed there were some similarities in body language between their two species after all.

"To an extent. Again, without knowing how their ability works, I do not have full control over what I get to read. It takes a great amount of concentration and flat out ignoring certain pieces of information when I enter someone's head. I get everything. Memories, emotions, the whole gamut."

"What did you see inside our prisoner's head?"

"I would argue that that is private. I do not like entering other people's heads, Koriand'r. Their emotions interfere with my own, which is a bad thing. No, I will not explain why it is a bad thing. Fortunately, this time was less strenuous than the others, especially since I was able to focus on the altered memories than the real ones."

"Yes, you mentioned before that our prisoner's memories had been manipulated through mystical means." She remembered that? This was a sign to be careful with what she said around the alien. Who knew what she would pick up or remember. "How were you able to tell that such manipulation occurred?"

Taking another sip of the poor excuse for tea, Rachel leaned back against a kitchen counter, keeping her hands on the mug and letting the liquid's warmth warm her hands. "Inconsistencies."

"What kind of inconsistencies?"

A pause to gather her thoughts. "Nothing of what I say goes beyond the two of us, understand?"

Koriand'r nodded her head, clearly recognizing the seriousness of the dark-haired girl's request. "I do."

"I saw a happy family life. I saw tragedy. I saw names. And then I saw these memories buried and barred away. This wouldn't be out of the ordinary; for most people we have memories we do not want to remember. However, these were repressed in such a way that Garfield _can't_ access them of his own free will. They are beyond his mental reach not because of the normal processes of the brain, but because someone intentionally sealed them away with magic."

"That sounds much like how a Kalanorian operates," Koriand'r commented. "Unfortunately I am not blessed with such an abilities, otherwise I would take it upon myself to undo such manipulations."

"It's not that simple. Mind manipulation is a delicate process. One wrong move and you can annihilate a person's very being. What makes them, well, them." That was another reason she disliked entering minds. The mind was a very fragile thing and it made her uncomfortable to, for lack of a better word, touch anything in it.

"I suppose you would know more about the matter than I would." Huh, what do you know, that sunk in. Koriand'r looked grim as she spoke, which kinda went against simplistic nature that the alien had been displaying.

"Let's leave it at that. Unless our green friend decides that he wants access to those memories, there is nothing I will do about it. Now, unless you have any other questions, I would ask that you leave me to myself for a moment." No one would be able to say that she wasn't polite with her dismissal.

Koriand'r looked thoughtful. "There is one other matter I would ask of you."

Rachel did not stop the eyeroll. "What matter is that?"

"I have depleted the household of mustard and am now craving sustenance. Because our host did not appreciate my raiding of her kitchen, I am hesitant to do anything to further offend her," the orange-colored alien explained.

Rachel had been there for that, actually. Their unnamed blonde host had expressed her frustrations earlier this morning and then had vanished up until the present moment. No one knew where she was and no one was willing to go looking for her just yet. Their host would appear again, that was for certain. Unless those Ravagers were still looking for them which they must be.

Unfortunately, it was way too late to do anything about it now.

"I suppose we can do something about that. I'll speak with Victor," the dark-haired girl said as she placed her cup of tea on the kitchen counter. "I'll be back in a moment."

Tucking her hands and arms under her cloak, she moved out of the kitchen and away from the inquisitive alien to finally get a second's worth of quiet. That second wouldn't last long as she reached the guest bedroom where their green prisoner was being kept and watched over by the ever vigilant cyborg.

She let out a small smile on how that was decided. The poor lug hadn't stood a chance.

There were things only a game of rock-paper-scissors could solve and she figured her male companion to be the rock type of player.

She wasn't disappointed.

Not bothering to knock first, the dark-haired girl opened the door to the guestroom, words on the tip of her tongue, ready to be spoken. None of them ever left her mouth as she came to a stop, freezing in place.

All she could see was a bright light, one that was steady and right in her face. There was even a hum accompanying the light. Within her, Rachel felt a spike of fear and a _surge_ build up, threatening to take over and consume _everything_ …

" _Oh shit_!" The light flashed away, but the end of what looked like a futuristic cannon sealed behind a blue-colored lens continued to stare back at her unblinkingly. Forcing back the turmoil within, the started girl took in the sight before her.

Now that she recovering from fight-or-flight, she could see Victor standing a mere five feet away, his arm held up and pointed directly at her which did not end in a hand like she expected. Instead, there was the futuristic cannon that she had described earlier. That made no sense to her whatsoever but she was determined to find out what was going on.

Putting on a show of indifference, she raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you forgot to tell me?"

"I am so sorry, Rachel, I did _not_ expect you to show up so quickly, I was just—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please do not take this the wrong way," Victor babbled.

"Shut. Up." Apparently, her patience, much like her nerves, had been frayed by this near death experience and thus she was not in the mood to entertain idiots. Her tone of voice must have been sharp, because like an obedient dog, Victor obeyed. Good boy. "Now. From the beginning. Explain."

The metal teen struggled to figure out what he was going to say, but not so the green boy still tied to a chair. "We were just messing around, trying to see what Cyborg here could do and did you know he's like a transforming robot? Yeah, yeah, and he can turn his arms into a bunch of stuff and it's so cool and—"

A flare of black magic escaped from Rachel and sealed itself around the motormouth. Ah, that was better. No more headache inducing noise.

"What he said," Victor pipped up, shrinking in on himself a bit. "He got me curious and I've kinda exploring myself. You know? You just...you just came in at a bad time."

"So you can do more than punch people." A concluding quip ended the second round of babbling. Yet, somehow she had managed to get all that. Let it never be said she couldn't multitask. "How great for you."

"Yeah…" Oh, how awkward her larger companion was. Not that she felt any of that. "So...did you need something?"

"I was about to inquire about food. Our intergalactic friend expressed a need to be fed. I figured I'd talk it out with you, but since you're busy."

"No, no, no, no! I'm done actually! So food! Right. Yeah, we gotta feed you guys. Maybe him." A thumb was jerked over a broad, metal shoulder to their captive who was shaking his head from left to right, trying to free his mouth. Hmm, he was turning an odd shade of green there. Like he couldn't...oh.

Dispelling it, Rachel watched in amusement as Garfield took in deep breathes of air. Apparently, she had also gotten his nose. At least he wasn't talking.

"In that case, I was thinking of take-out. I believe we have imposed ourselves enough on our generous host and it would be in bad form to eat her out of house and home," she suggested, getting straight to business with her proposal.

"You sure about that? I mean, it's not like I could go get it myself since, you know, I stand out in a crowd and I don't have anything to wear," Victor pointed out. "Can't let Ms. ET in there either because no matter what people say, orange isn't the new black. Green Bean behind me can't go anyway because we're holding him against his will. And I know you don't like having to around a lot of people. Also, I got a feeling that that Red Robin dude wouldn't be too happy with one of us going out by ourselves."

"Ooh! Ooh! Can I get a Garden Burger? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!"

The two not currently tied to a chair teens paused and looked over at their prisoner who was trying to give his best impression of the puppydog eyes.

"The Garden Burger?" Victor repeated dumbly.

"Yeah! I've only had it once, crazy story, but I'm starving! So can you get me one?" Garfield half-asked again, and half explained.

Rachel found herself sharing a look with the taller and broader teen. Looking back at the green boy, she inquired, "A Garden Burger from where?"

"You know! You just said it! Red Robin!" was the exclaimed response.

Several heartbeats passed as the two of them digested that information. Then Victor let out a groan. "We aren't talking about that restaurant."

"But then why did you say Red Robin?" Garfield asked, tilting his head to a side much like a certain alien did.

"We were talking about a guy who calls himself that," Victor explained.

"Does he had an in to Red Robin? Maybe we can get a discount!"

"I don't think he has an in with Red Robin. I don't think he was thinking of food when he decided to… Never mind, why out of all the stuff they serve would you want a Garden Burger?" Looked like Victor couldn't process the inanity of this topic.

"Cause I don't like meat."

Victor's human eye flared. "What do you mean you don't like meat?"

"Have you ever been a cow? Or a pig? Or a sheep? A fish? I have. And I don't feel right eating something I've become. It's like cannibalism or something." Garfield gave a very visible shudder despite his tied up status. Oh, and his face was turning another shade of green. Wow, this guy was full of surprises.

"But you're human. Aren't you? You have to like eating meat!" Victor retorted loudly.

"Why do you care?" Rachel butted in. "I've never seen you eat before."

A gasp from the peanut gallery. "You don't either? Dude! You're going all android on me!"

"You stay out of this," Victor snapped at her. Then to Garfield, "And you, I am not an android!"

"Are too! Are too!"

"Do not make me come over there!"

And she was out of here. This was getting out of hand and she did not want the headache that would come with it. Let these two idiots argue between themselves, she would have no part of it.

As she returned to the kitchen, she soon found out that she may not be so removed as she had hoped.

"What is this Robin of Red and is that what we will be devouring for our nutritional needs?" Koriand'r asked innocently.

* * *

School had been a little more nerve wracking than anticipated, what with Cassie deciding that she wanted to get her learn on and also the constant distraction of a certain group of strangers all placed under the same roof with only the surfaces of their abilities scratch at. That kind of combination could only mean trouble.

Once that final bell had rung, Tim was out of there and donning his newly-dubbed Red Robin costume. Yeah, it was still daylight, he would need to check in with the folks at some point, but right now there were some very important things that needed to be taken care.

Like seeing if Cassie Sandsmark's house was still standing.

And it was. Miraculously. Whew.

However, just because the building was still standing didn't mean that the inside was in good shape. Plus he wanted to make sure they still had their prisoner and that said prisoner was in one piece. With a teen who was robotic, a teen who could repress superpowers and read minds, and an alien who knew how to kick ass and make green explosive light, you could understand why the vigilante would be nervous.

Because if anything happened, it was his ass on the line as Cassie would soon be determined to tear it a new one, most likely with her fist. He wasn't into that kind of thing and never would be.

So like any self-respecting Gothamite who had a night life, he snuck in through the back. Relief was the first thing he felt as he saw the place was still in one piece. That was good, really good. Now to see where the others were.

The first one he spotted was none other than Victor he had taken residence on the couch. He was hunched over, hands clasped together in front of his face. What said face looked like was hard to tell since the robotic side was the one facing the dark-haired teen. No sign of the other two, but maybe he could get some intel right here, right now.

"Yo. What's up?" he called out. Victor jolted, snapping his head around in surprise to stare with a wide human eye.

"What the! When'd you get here!" the cybernetic teen exclaimed, shooting up to his feet and turning to fully face him.

"Just now. I see that you haven't leveled the place," Red Robin remarked, making a show of looking around.

"What? Didn't trust us?" Victor retorted.

"Should I?" the vigilante coolly replied.

Victor paused, as if thinking about something. "In all honesty, it was the Grass Stain's fault."

Grass Stain? Oh right, Green Bean—er, Garfield. Now who would name their kid that nowadays? Ahem, anyway.

"What did he do?" Get straight to the point. No sense in dragging it out.

"Did you know that guy's a vegetarian? You know, the person that can become animals doesn't like to eat them? Especially since some of them are meateaters? Because I didn't!" Victor's speech became more and more rushed as he spoke. It was obvious the poor guy was trying to wrap his mind around the concept.

In the cyborg's defense, Red Robin hadn't expected that either.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me? Because you've lost me," the teen vigilante stated.

"Did you know how much of a hassle it was to try to find some place that catered to vegans or vegetarians or whatever? Why can't he eat meat like a normal person?" Victor grumbled.

Red Robin zeroed in on one key aspect of that complained. "Find? Don't tell me you guys went out and got something!"

Immediately looking around, he found to his dismay food containers that could only have come from a...Red Robin? Oh crap, he was named after a freaking food chain! Why had he not…? Forget about it, what's done was done. Nothing for it. What was important was…

"How did you get take out? Didn't anyone ask any questions?" he exclaimed, turning back to the robotic teen.

"Rachel took care of it. Don't ask, you don't want to know the answer," Victor told him frankly. "Also, Kori wanted to try it out. Couldn't say no to her. I have no idea what Oka bataar—or however you say it—is, but it means something to her. Probably had it once and it seems like a Red Robin Burnin' Love burger was a close match for it."

You know what, Victor was right. Red Robin didn't want to know anymore details.

"So where are, uh, Kori, and Rachel? I don't see them anywhere." Best to get back to business.

"Rachel's upstairs. I think she's taking a nap but tell her I told you that. Our friendly, orange ET is taking watch over the Grass Stain. Now that I think about it, it has been a while…"

That trailed off comment was indeed ominous. As in, not good. As in, who knew what was happening behind—hold on a sec, needed to take a quick check...and the door was indeed closed—closed doors?

"I guess now is as good a time as any to check on them?" Red Robin suggested, not taking the first step yet.

"Yeah, I guess it would be," Victor agreed, not making any move to take the lead.

"I mean what's the worst that can happen, right? From what I can tell, the Green Bean isn't that much of a threat. He's not the brightest crayon in the crayon box. And she knows how to defend herself," Red Robin remarked, settling back on his heels.

"Of course. She's been in there for a few hours. No biggie. It ain't some mastermind we're dealing with," the mostly metal teen commented.

Both gave a big sigh. There really was no telling what was going on in that room was there? It was eerily silent and no loud noises were coming from within it. If only they had superhearing. Between the both of them, they didn't. Going to have to do it the hard way then. Yep.

You know, that could wait a bit.

"So, have you seen, um, what did you call her again? The girl who owns this house," Red Robin began, deliberately changing the topic. Yes, let's stall a bit.

"Not much to say, she left sometime this morning. Told us that she wanted to think. Hasn't been back since," Victor reported, shrugging his shoulders.

"That right?" the masked teen grunted. Oh, he knew where she went to think. And learn. "You know when she's coming back?"

"No idea."

Which pretty much summed up what was going on. They had no idea what they were doing. They had come together only because someone wanted them dead. It was as much about protection as it was living to see another day. No one knew where to start or how to resolve the situation. The only lead they had wasn't much of a lead and had not been the well of information any of them had wanted.

It was a game of hide-and-seek except a lot more hiding, waiting, and possibly going stir crazy because wouldn't you know it, personalities clashed. This was only day one, and everything was being stressed to the limit. Who would have thought the personality clash would have come from their captive and not between them?

"Well, found out I can still eat stuff," Victor said, speaking merely for the sake of saying something. Not that what he said was particularly interesting but an awkward silence was an awkward silence.

"No kidding. Huh." Because what else could you say to that?

"Came as a surprise to me too. Right now I have a program running that's giving me all the juicy details of what's left of my digestive tract." A grimace interrupted the small talk. "I can't figure out how to turn it off yet."

Which might explain that hunched over posture from earlier and the overreaction to vegetarianism. An overreaction to distract from a bothersome software problem.

Really, what could you say to that?

"Alright, we both know what needs to be done. Who's going to do it." That lone dark eye was staring down at him, the red, glowing eye urging an immediate response.

Behind his mask, Red Robin narrowed his eyes. "There's really only one way we can do this," he said as he held out a fist.

"You're right," Victor agreed, holding out his own larger fist.

Now, the vigilante wasn't a betting guy, but he figured that Victor here was a rock guy.

Kinda a shame when it turned out Victor had figured him as a rock guy too.

* * *

Forgotten and abandoned on the ocean floor, the alien ship had remained undisturbed for some time. The only thing that bothered it was the sea life that swam about and sometimes through it. The damage to the spacecraft allowed such creatures to make a home of it, if only for the short term. Whether the fauna would seek it out remained to be seen.

Then its solitude was broken by a light.

The electronic systems struggled to come to life, obeying the signal that was directed at it. The best it could do with the little power it still had was send a reply that it was there before dying once again. That was more than enough to confirm to the other spacecraft that hovered over the surface, directly above the ship's resting place.

The space-going vessel that had made contact remained where it was, analyzing the data it received and informing the small scouting crew of its findings. The Gordanian scouts were pleased at their successes.

So far they had managed to infiltrate this foreboding planet's atmosphere without alerting any authority or the feared presence that resided somewhere. Now they had a second success, the location of the escape ship taken by their commander's missing property. Soon enough, a third success could be added.

Any moment now, data from the small probes they had released after safely penetrating the planet's atmosphere would be transmitted to them, and from there sent back to their commander.

A computer monitor became active, the anticipated intelligence coming in. There was a settlement nearby, an obvious place for their missing property to go to. By the numbers coming in, the settlement itself was small by Gordanian standards, but it was probably large for the native species. Hmm, that was quite an area to search, and that did not include the area directly around the settlement.

It was not their mission to take initiative here. It was only to report their findings. Then based on their commander's decision, they would be able to leave this planet or wait for reinforcements. Knowing Trogaar, it was most likely going to be the latter.

A nervous energy was infecting the scout ship's crew. They all wanted to leave and to do so immediately. Who knew when that presence might discover them? It could in that settlement for all they knew.

Orders were orders though. One of the Gordanian scouts began the transmission back to the destroyer-class ship that was the commander's pride and joy.

It was a fool's hope to believe their mission was close to over.

* * *

Far into the reaches of space, the Gordanian commander known as Trogaar stood at his place in command, patiently waiting for his scouts' report. Moments ago, he had received a communication and he scanned through all the data presented to him.

Important matters such as the air, the makeup of the land-based surface, and strength of the gravitation force at work were necessary before any kind of planning could be done.

To allay the superstitions of his crew, he had his ship hidden behind the planet's singular moon. All defenses were active from shields to the mind blockers. There would be no detection of their presence here.

For all his strength, Trogaar was not a stupid Gordanian. Far from it. He knew the stories about this planet and its role in the decline of Kalanorian power. It was the site of the Kalanorian leader's first document defeat. That monster, Despero, had led his forces in the conquest of this planet and by all accounts should have taken it.

But there was something on it. Something that inhabited it. It was strong enough to not only push back the technology of the Kalanorian military, but was able to counter the race's famed ability for telepathy. Despero himself had been reduced to a catatonic state and forced to retreat.

As a result, most space-faring aliens kept as far away from this planet Earth for fear that whatever was powerful enough to put an end to Kalanorian ambitions would be more than a match for another invading conqueror.

The fear was real, and fear always spawned superstition. While the Gordanian commander could ignore such irrationality, he would not ignore the results of a battle. That was real, could be seen, and studied. The might of Despero had been matched and overwhelmed. Not even Gordanians, who could rival the Kalanorians in their fighting prowess, could face off with that three-eyed monster.

There had been battles between the budding empire and the might of the Citadel. Of those that the Citadel, the Gordanians being a faction within it, had initiated, all had been lost. To preserve itself, the forces of the Citadel had to shore up its defenses, prepare for inevitable invasion. Despero had other plans, leaving them to cower while he expanded his galactic territory, gaining more resources and subjects as time passed.

Trogaar himself had been an advocate for total warfare against the upstart. However, the central command of military forces wanted a more cautious approach. Build their strength, bide their time, and take what was theirs when the time was right. It was a time that never seemed to come, even now as the Kalanorians were withdrawing closer to their homeworld.

They were all gutless, his superiors. Cowards. A few measly defeats and they were paralyzed by their fears. If only they didn't have the political clout that they did, otherwise, Trogaar himself would have executed each one for treason, treason against the Citadel and its rightful place of power in the galaxy.

Even if he was one of the more bloodthirsty officers, whatever was the architect of this change in intergalactic politics was not to be underestimated. That Tamaranian had chosen well its place to hide itself.

The one planet that would make him hesitate to engage a full-on assault to quicken his search and recapture his property. Hesitation though would only temper his actions, not stop them altogether. He would not let fear conquer him as it had so many others. He would rise to the challenge, he would conquer.

The only question in the commander's head was how. How would he find his escaped slave? If the intel his scouts had sent him were indeed accurate, nothing short of full-scale invasion would be necessary to tame this small section of the planet.

But he hadn't got as far as he had with conventional tactics. There were other ways. An overt invasion would not be needed. A covert one on the other hand…

His was a mind sharpened by experience. Honed by adversity. This challenge would be no different. The Gordanian already had an advantage over his quarry, one that itself did not know of.

That was, he knew its mental processes. Based on its background, survival training had not been a large part of the Tamaranian's upbringing. A little odd if you knew anything about Tamaranians in the first place.

Nonetheless, this piece of property would not go too far from its crashed vessel. The settlement was the most likely place it sought shelter. The geography beyond would be unknown. The knowledge of the race that claimed stewardship of this celestial body was even more limited. They could be hostile for it all knew.

Dependence on that race would be tantamount to ensuring its survival. A parasite would be what the Tamaranian would become.

In retrospect, this would be too easy.

Plans were coming together, tactics selected or discarded, and strategies ironed out.

Time was the only obstacles in the commander's way, but even time could be conquered under the right circumstance. Trogaar would get his hands on his property once more.

There would be no more escapes after this.


	16. Council from the Heart

Council from the Heart

As it turned out, they had been making a big deal out of nothing. Really. It really reflected badly on the two males their lack of trust in this Tamaranian's ability to ensure their prisoner's captivity. When they had finally checked in on the two, the sight was almost comical.

The resident alien had reclined on a bed, relaxed. Okay, nothing out of the ordinary. The green-skinned captive laid on his side beside her, an orange-skinned hand combing through green haired as a very youthful voice babbled about the most mundane things you could have imagined. Everything so far was still—hold up, wait, what?

Yeah, so Kori—Red Robin was going to use that name since it was easier for him to say than the whole thing—had untied Garfield and had done so without tearing the bungee cords to pieces. She knew how to untie knots. Horrifying. What happened next, though, was very surreal.

"Come now, Gar. It is time you get back to your chair."

"Aw, but I don't wanna go back to the chair!"

"I understand, but right now I must confer with my allies and it would be most appreciative if you cooperated. I do not like restraining you as much as you dislike being restrained. Until your intentions are discerned, this is the way it has to be."

"But the chair is so hard, it makes my butt fall asleep!"

"Shall I put a pillow on the chair so that your butt may slumber in comfort?"

"Would you?"

Yeah, so not only had she untied their captive, she was able to talk him back into being tied up again. What powers of persuasion did Kori have that they were not aware of? More importantly, could she use those powers on them?

After instructing Garfield not to make any trouble—to which he agreed to saying he was going to be the best prisoner ever—the Tamaranian had addressed Red Robin and Victor, expressing concern about the welfare of "Gar."

"Gar?"

"Yes, he much dislikes his full name. It was a compromise I agreed to to gain his trust. It was much effective and he was more willing to speak with me afterwards."

It was at that point that the previous mentioned concern came out.

"I am very much troubled by what young Gar has told me about this Brother Blood. I wish to seek your counsel, along with Rachel and the warrior whose home we have appropriated."

"I don't know what that last word means, but I totally agree that's what you people did," Cassie spoke up from behind them, at some time arriving while their attention was diverted. It was safe to say that she was still not happy about the current situation.

"And where were you?" Red Robin had decided to press that particular issue instead.

"Places. I do have a life, regardless of what you think about me," the blonde had deadpanned.

Playing hardball already. Well, he already knew where she was but he couldn't call her out on it just yet. That would have to come in due time. Meanwhile, they would let Kori here tell them about what she had learned.

With the sun setting over the horizon, the group of five had convened in the living room. Cassie stood in the threshold between the kitchen and living room, not wanting to be a part of this but wanting to listen in at the same time. Rachel, who had been upstairs this whole time, was lounging on the couch, calm, cool, and collected. Kori shared the same couch with the smaller female and retained all attention in the room. Victor had taken up post between the living room and the small hallway that led to the guest room. That left Red Robin who had selected a chair as his roost.

Let's get this council of Elrond over with.

"So what have you found out so far from our green friend?" he started, putting out his prompt and waiting for the expected answer. What that answer contained was unknown for the time being.

"I have coaxed information about this Brother Blood from our friend of green. According to Gar—"

"Hold on a second, Gar?" Cassie interrupted.

"It is the name he prefers to be called rather than Garfield," Kori explained—again—before resuming. "According to Gar, this Brother Blood apparently rescued him. Though from what, he could not say. This man provides room and board and in return expects services to be provided from his wards, Gar included. Many of these services could be otherwise referred to as offerings."

"What kind of offerings?" Rachel inquired, expressing some curiosity.

"Of the bodily fluid nature," was the unexpected answer.

It took a second before Red Robin felt his face begin to heat up. Automatically, his adolescent brain went straight to the gutter. Then those thoughts was replaced with a feeling of disgust. Was...did...but that…

There were three other people who seemed to have the same difficulty as he was grasping this piece of information. Victor looked uncomfortable. Rachel was hard to describe. And Cassie expressed the same feeling of disgust he was experiencing on her face.

"He likes to screw kids?" the blonde exclaimed.

"Screw?" Kori repeated, blinking her eyes in confusion.

"That's...that's horrible! And gross! And...and…" And anger had overridden disgust.

"My apologies, but what do you mean by screw?" the orange-colored alien asked, still lost and somewhat apprehensive.

"She means...uh…" Victor started but stopped himself. Awkward was the best way to describe him right now.

"She means fornication," Rachel bluntly stated.

"What? Oh! I believe there has been miscommunication!" Kori hastily said. "There is none of the screwing happening."

"But you said bodily fluids. What are we suppose to think that means?" Cassie demanded.

"There are other bodily fluids out there," Rachel replied for the Tamaranian dryly.

"Yes. In this case the fluid requested was for a sanguine fluid that contains hemoglobin," Kori clarified. Not.

At the blank looks the alien was receiving, Rachel translated for her, "She means blood."

"How do you know that?" Cassie questioned, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Because I read." Rachel gave the skeptical blonde a look, one that dared her to press her luck.

"So he wants the people he takes in to bring him blood," Red Robin spoke up, hoping to prevent a fight from breaking out.

"That is correct," Kori confirmed, nodding her head.

Alright, so blood was what Blood wanted. Not...yeah, best not to go back that way. Now, why would he want blood?

"Did Garfield mention any particular reason why Blood wants, well, blood? Why that specifically?" he asked.

"That he was unable to clarify. What he did impart unto me was 'the fresher, the better.'"

The fresher the better?" So, fresh blood? Okay. This was getting into some weird territory. Why the emphasis on "fresh" blood? Wasn't blood freshest when it...oh. Oh. But that would mean… Oh.

Seemed like everyone was getting that now. That, and the dark implications of it.

A thought occurred to the vigilante. When he had first encountered Garfield, it had been at a blood bank. A blood bank that he was robbing for blood. One that was also owned by a guy named Sebastian Blood. Was this the reason he had been there? To get an offering to pay this Brother Blood for housing?

"Why would anyone want fresh blood above any other generic blood? Don't tell me he has a type he prefers too," Victor said, unnerved.

"Well, there are certain rituals that require blood. The, ahem, fresher or recently spilt that blood is, the stronger the ritual becomes," their resident encyclopedia answered.

"What kind of rituals?" Red Robin asked.

"The only kind that would require blood. The magical kind." Rachel shrugged her shoulders as if to say "that's all there is to it."

Magic, huh. Been a while since he had seen anything like that.

"So what specific rituals would someone like Brother Blood want to perform?" he wondered out loud.

"You're buying this?" Cassie cut in, giving him an incredulous look.

"It's not my first time with magic," he replied. "However, what I saw didn't use blood. And since Rachel seems to know something about it, as in more than I do, I want to make sure I look into every possibility. Can you give a better reason why anyone would want blood outside of a transfusion?"

"What about that crazy church?" Cassie suggested.

"The Church of the Savior and Saint's Blood?"

"Yeah, that one. You know, you're the only person I know of who calls it by that way too long name. Everyone else calls it the Church of Blood."

That was another thing; Sebastian Blood was also a member of that church. Again, a real strong coincidence.

"You remember that blood bank? The one where we fought all those animals?" he brought up, directing his question to the blonde.

"Yeah, how could I forget?" Cassie answered. Pausing for a second, it seemed she made a connection of her own. "You don't think…?"

"Get this, the owner of that place is a guy called Sebastian Blood. And guess what, he's a member of that church too."

"So two guys, one a Brother and the other a Sebastian, and both are named Blood," Victor summed up. "I don't know about any of you guys, but that's way too coincidental for me."

"Except there's no proof that the two are one and the same. It could be a total coincidence that they share a name," Red Robin pointed out. "Do you have anything that does? If so, do let me know and before I make an idiot of myself."

"Way too late for that," Cassie muttered.

"Well, I...you know...alright, I have no proof, but I'm still suspicious," Victor stumbled over his words for a moment before conceding.

"Good, because now that's something I need to ask you," the vigilante stated, his gaze focused on the half-teen, half-robot.

"And what's that?"

"From what I've heard you say, there's a lot of stuff you can do that's very similar to a computer. Are you able to connect to the Internet?" This was a very important question and needed to be asked.

The cybernetic teen had to think about that for a moment. "According to my manual, I should. Never tried before."

"Then you could do some searches, couldn't you?" Red Robin pressed.

"Where are you trying to go with this?" Victor narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I'm thinking that something you could do is bring up any and all information you can on Sebastian Blood and the Church of Blood. And by that, I also mean the stuff you don't find only on Google. I'm talking about the dark web. I'm talking about the stuff that people want to deliberately hide. Would you be able to find that stuff?"

"Uh…" Was it just him, or had both of Victor's eyes glazed over? Not just the human eye but also the robotic one. The vigilante waited patiently for an answer, but when one wasn't coming, he made a show of clearing his throat—loudly, he might add—to get a response. "What? Oh. Um. I...guess? Never tried that either."

"There's a lot you've never tried," Rachel commented, ignoring the glare that the metal teen threw at her.

"Will you try?" Red Robin pressed, trying to prevent any kind of argument from forming. It was like he was dealing with children here.

The fact that they were all, as far he knew, teenagers was lost on him.

"I guess." Still a little hesitant there.

"Let me put it this way. Can you or will you? Yes or no," Red Robin rephrased.

"I won't know until I try, so I'll do it." There a better answer.

Turning to Rachel. "I don't know everything that you're capable of but could you find out the kinds of ritual that require fresh blood to do?"

"You have no idea what you're asking," Rachel stated.

"Why's that?" he asked.

"That list would be so long, you could wrap it around the planet twice. There are that many," the cloak-wearing girl explained.

"Oh." He was going to have to take her word on that. "Well, what would some guy with a cult obsessed with blood be capable of doing or wanting to do that involves rituals that need fresh blood?" Hopefully that was more specific.

"That barely shortens that list."

Guess not.

Before he could try again, Rachel said, "I'll make my own inquires with Garfield and see if he can't narrow it down. As unlikely as that is, maybe he overheard something or picked up something else that will fulfill my criteria before I do a search. I can't promise anything."

"Yeah, okay, do that," the masked teen agreed.

"What about myself? Is there anything I may do?" Kori pipped up, wanting a little bit of this action too.

"You've done a lot already. So take a break." Really, he had no thoughts or ideas that he could say to keep her busy.

"Very well. What do you wish for me to break?"

Damn it Drake!

"I mean, rest. Relax. Get something to eat," he said hastily.

"I see. Very well," the alien replied.

"What about you? Do you have something you're going to do?" Victor said.

"Actually, I have some leads of my own I need to check up on. As soon as we're done, I'm heading out," Red Robin answered.

"With those Ravagers out there waiting to kill us," Rachel added.

"Should I accompany you?" Kori offered, jumping at the opportunity.

Well, now that he thought about it, it would probably be better if he had a little extra muscle with him. Back when he was with the Batclan, it had been Nightwing who did a lot of the fighting. Unless the teen could build up his skills to a more appropriate level, he was going to need to reply on a better fighter.

"No need, I'll go with him."

Red Robin jerked his head over to see Cassie, the blonde girl boring her gaze into him. What was this about?

"There's something he and I need to discuss and this will kill two birds with one stone," Cassie continued, not taking her blue eyes off him.

For some reason, he had a feeling that refusing her was not going to end well.

* * *

Taking her time to get herself ready, meaning suiting herself up in her armor, Cassie met up with the masked twerp himself on the roof of her house. Where did he get off waiting up there? Trying to be cool or something? Well he was failing at that.

"Ready?" he asked her as soon as he spotted her.

"Not quite," she had said instead, arms crossed in front of her. "There's something you and I need to discuss."

A blank look. "Does it have to be now?"

"You bet it has to be now." Already she was feeling peeved. Three guesses as to why and two of them were wrong. "I want to know why you decided to move four strangers into _my_ house without my consent or saying, 'sure, I can put these guys up for a night.' No, you forced them on me and I want a damn good reason why. I can't keep them here. I don't have the cash or the food."

"The real reason? Your place was the only one that I could stick them at such short notice. If I had a place I could use, I would've put them there," Red told her readily, not even pausing to think about it. The candidness of the answer took her aback for a second. "A short story even shorter, I already knew that you were home alone. Don't think I'm happy about the situation either."

"So what are you doing? Finding another place to stick them?" she demanded.

"I'm trying to find the guy who wants us dead. Take him out of the picture, and everyone goes their own way." The way he said that, it sounded like he believed it.

"That's not how the world works. You kill that Blood guy, another freak will pick up where he left off. He's part of that wacko church, remember? There has to be plenty of people who'll do that," she retorted.

"I never said anything about killing. I won't do that," Red replied.

"What? Why wouldn't you? Doesn't this guy have it in for you enough to kill you? That makes no sense!" she exclaimed.

"If you knew anything about where I come from, then you'll know why. It's ingrained in me not to kill. And I'd have someone worse after me if I did. So no, sorry, my sense of preservation won't let me do that. So it's put them in jail. Simple as that."

"That's even more stupid! How many crooks get sent to prison only to get out the next day? They haven't even been to court yet!" Now she was starting to yell. "A freak this guy might be, but he has to have money. Churches always have some kind of money in them. Whether it's the church or the people who go to it, they'll get enough to get him out, he'll be back on the streets, and he won't let something like the legal system stop him from picking up where he started."

"I know all that."

"So you have—wait, what? You know?! And you still won't do it?!" Cassie was having trouble wrapping her mind around this.

"I don't know about you, but people like me, who want to do some good in the world, we have to have a code. Rules. Something that sets us apart from the people we're trying to stop. If I killed Blood, what makes me any different from him? It won't. I'd be another guy in a mask who's killed someone. And there are a lot of those," Red explained. "I have to stand for something. Even if it's only to myself. Plus, it makes it harder for people to go after me if I have a clean slate. Can't say I'm more dangerous than the people I fight."

"You really are a piece of something. I don't know what, but it's something." Here she thought he was some prick in a costume. A very nice-looking costume since it didn't look homemade. However, she didn't think him so...gullible? Naive? Borderline stupid? It still wasn't making sense to her.

"Since we're doing a heart-to-heart here, maybe you can tell me something," Red said. "Why do you steal? You have that armor, you're strong as hell, and I could swear you can fly. Oh, and don't get me started on the rope. Why are you using it to steal from people's homes? That's something _I_ don't get."

What the? Where was he trying to go with this? Oh she knew what this was; he was trying to turn things around on her.

"I don't see what this has to do with you inviting four strangers into my house."

Why was she getting the feeling that Red was giving her a look of disappointment? What was he, her mother now? "I really don't get you. You have something you can use to help people, but you only use it for yourself. You use it to break into other people's homes, and to take their things. What do you even do with them? Keep them for yourself? Sell them? Seriously, why are you stooping so low as simple theft?"

"Because I'm bored, that's why," she blurted out, her frustration mounting with this prick. "I get a thrill from doing it. Is that what you want to hear? Even if it isn't, that's why. Happy?"

"You know, for a second, I had hoped that might have been a different reason. But it's not like I haven't been wrong before," Red stated, condemning her.

"You talk like I wanted this armor in the first place." She swung her arm to her side violently, though all that accomplished was moving the air. With the other arm, she balled the hand into a fist, clenching it tighter and tighter as she continued speaking. "I didn't just wake up one morning, had a normal day, ran into it by accident, and decided to keep it. This damn thing chose me, I don't know why, and had I known that would have happened, I never would have gone to that dig in the first place," Cassie snapped back. "You have no idea what kind of power this thing has. Do you know how hard it is to take it off? No, you don't. There are times I feel like it's trying to fuse into my skin. So I figure that if I have no choice with it, I might as well use it how I want to, not how anybody else would. You should be happy I haven't gone on a killing spree or anything because guess what, this armor would let me do that."

"What, are you say this armor you're wearing is evil or something?" Red retorted.

"If I'm not careful, I could really hurt someone for no reason," she practically hissed at him. "The only real way to shut it up, is to use it. And you know something, whenever I fought you, it started to get a little easier to remove. It really did. But catch twenty-two, if I kept up with trying to do my own thing, I had to keep wearing it so that you wouldn't stand a chance. You're the best and the worst thing I've had to deal with since I found it."

Red's eyes at widened at the outburst. At least, that's what she thought was happening. The white things that actually covered his eyes were rounder than they usually were, his forehead pushing back to the short black hair that topped his head.

"Before you get any wild ideas, I always liked having a little excitement in my life. That hasn't changed." If this asshole ever got the idea that getting rid of this armor, this Silence Armor as she knew it was called, was going to fix everything and she'd be grateful about it, he was dead wrong. Sure, she'd be happier without it in her life, don't get her wrong, but the armor wasn't going away anytime soon. "I've always liked thrills. First chance I got to, I went bungee jumping. Scared the shit out of my mom many times. And I'd do it all over again, because that's who I am. So what words do you have to say to me now? What self-righteous crap do you have to spew to make me see 'the error of my ways?' Make them interesting so I don't get bored with them."

Red, because she was not going to call him Red Robin, traded her look for look. Cassie knew she was giving some kind of rebellious teen expression. Her mom always commented on it when she saw it, and when that happened, the blonde was always feeling the way she currently was now. Anger, aggressiveness, frustration. All of that mixed up together. Meanwhile, Red was giving her a cool look, probably thinking over his next words.

"When you put it like that, I guess I don't have any words for you. None that you'll listen to anyway." His voice was as cool as his face, and no, cool didn't mean awesome. More like, stoic, or cold. Bland even. As he turned his head away from her, he added, "We're not going to agree on anything, so why waste the energy. That doesn't change the fact we have guys out there wanting us dead. When it's all over, I'll convince the others to leave. Are you happy now?"

The armored blonde narrowed her eyes, both for the dismissiveness but also at his hair. Something about it was familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. It was like she had seen it before, today. Obviously, you could point out all the other times she had met up with him or been in the same room together, but she wasn't counting any of that.

The way the short, black hair was styled, or not styled as it seemed a bit too short for styling, was ringing a little bell in her head. She had seen it around before, in a setting that Red was nowhere to be seen.

This was going to need more thought.

Fanning out that cape of his, Red took off, gliding through the air and away from the roof. Her eyes following at him, Cassie only thought of going after him and her body lifted itself off the shingled surface. She floated after the dressed-up prick with no effort at all.

For the time being, they were done talking. Later, they were going to have another "heart-to-heart," she was sure.

That just seemed to be the way things were going to be between them.

* * *

" _Azarath….Metrion...Zinthos_."

There, her little block on Garfield's shapeshifting ability was reinforced. No need to worry about getting mauled for the foreseeable future.

"Aw, do you have to keep doing that? It's not fair!" the receiver of the block whined.

"It is for your safety as much as it is ours," she said blandly.

"Really?"

"No."

Shoulders slumping, the green kid's bottom lip stuck out, pouting. "Did anyone ever tell you how mean you are?"

"I've never been around people long enough for them to tell me that. You're the first. Congratulations." All was spoken in a deadpanned tone, uncaring of the boy's opinion.

"You know, I can hear the sarcasm in your voice," Garfield said sullenly.

"Really? Most people can't. I bet those ears are more than decoration." An interesting development. What else could he hear? Could he listen in on conversations in another room? If he could, the others needed to be cautioned about it. The shapeshifter may be incapacitated now, but the future was ever uncertain and if he ever got loose…

"Can't you be more like Cyborg? And Kori? They were nicer," Garfield complained.

"Sorry. I am not like...Cyborg," why did Victor feel the need to call himself that to this immature kid, "or Kori," she could give the alien some leeway, "and telling me to be like them will not make that happen. Get used to it."

"You're just like Terra. But meaner," Garfield groaned, letting his head fall back, his face directed towards the ceiling.

"I feel like I should be insulted." Who was Terra and why would she spend any time with this brat?

"You shouldn't. Terra's the only friend I've got and the only one I'll need." Now Garfield was directing his nose into the air, like he was snob. Poser.

"What about Cyborg and Kori?"

"Oh, they're cool and all, but they're also holding me against my will. So it kinda cancels out?" Hmm, sounded a bit uncertain there.

"You don't sound so sure. How about you tell me something you are sure about. What do you know about Brother Blood and his offerings? Do you know what he does with them?" Enough small talk. He should be grateful she lasted this long. Business was something she always wanted to be done with as soon as possible, so he better cooperate.

If worst came to worst, she'd go back into his head, even though she already had her fill of that before.

"Beats me. If the guy who saves your life wants you to bring him blood, you do it, don't you?" the green changeling answered without missing a beat.

"You've never asked?" she pressed.

"Why would I?"

"Ever overhear something you shouldn't have?"

"Just because I have good hearing doesn't mean I can listen in through walls."

That was good to know. It put another issue to rest, though not the one Rachel wanted.

"Let me ask you this, then. What reason does anybody want blood for?" she asked, deciding to go back a bit and lead him in a direction that could hopefully give her some answers.

"My answer's the same. Beats. Me." Now he was giving her attitude.

"Well I can think of many uses for blood," she continued along that topic. "Perhaps Brother Blood is the type who drinks it. There's a long standing belief that if you consume blood, specifically that of the young and virginal, it can reverse aging itself. Does your savior want to become younger?"

Garfield wrinkled his nose in disgust. "That's gross! Ew! Nasty!"

"Well?"

"I...don't know. Never thought to ask." His eyes looked up to the ceiling, obviously contemplative.

"Maybe he's trying to summon demons," she suggested next.

"What?! Why? Why would he want to summon demons?" Garfield protested.

"I don't know. You tell me."

"He wouldn't!" came the exclaimed denial.

"Is that so? How well do you know this man?" If the direct approach wasn't going to work…

"I know enough. He saved me and that's I all I need to know." How precious, a true believer.

"People who demand anything in return for their deeds should be scrutinized," she stated, leaving no room for argue. She continued, ensuring that there would be no room to argue anyway. "They always have an ulterior motive. A reason for why they do what they do. From what I've heard, he sounds like one of those individuals. But let's say he saved you out of the goodness of his heart? What has he done for you to be able to function or find your way out in the world? What skills has he imparted unto you that you could use to build a life away from him? Do tell me. I'll wait."

The green shapeshifter was taking offense for his so-called savior, glaring at her. "He's…" he started, only to trail off. "I know… I can… I... You're just trying to confuse me! Half of those big words you used, I don't even know! And I don't need to know, because he saved me!"

"From what?" she demanded heatedly, attacking his logic head-on. The tricky part about believers was their zealousness. Zealotry was always a powerful shield against logic and reason. Sometimes, it could be more powerful than any magic you could conjure.

"I already told you—"

"No, you didn't. You've only said he saved you but never from what. So tell me what was so horrible that he rescued you from that deserves your unquestioning loyalty. What was it? Tell me. Maybe you'll convince me he's not all bad." Dangle a little carrot of vindication in front of their faces, and they'll always go for it.

"Well he… He…" Garfield gave a wince, his face grimacing. "Ow…" Hm, looked like Blood's manipulations were kicking in, preventing him from going back that far. "I know this," the green-colored kid spoke through gritted teeth. "I _know_ this." A grunt of pain.

"Don't hurt yourself," Rachel said dully, expressing no concern whatsoever.

"No! I gotta prove… I gotta prove how wrong you are! Ah! I need to...find...I know...it's there…!" A small cry tore out of his mouth, exposing his slightly elongated canines. "...why does it hurt…?"

"Because someone doesn't want you to remember." Another statement of fact. "Someone placed a block on you, only not like myself with your powers. Instead, on your own memories. Who do you think could have done that?"

"You could've," Garfield huffed. Though his head was lowered, he was peeking up at her through green-colored bangs. "When you went into my head. You could have put it there too without me knowing."

"Except I didn't. That was already there and I don't have to go into other people's heads to lock away their memories. I could do that standing right here as I am now," she refuted.

"Well, you could've done it when you took away my powers!" he retorted.

"And you have my word that I didn't do it then. I had all the reason in the word to want you to retain your memories." Another brutal refute from her, how would he respond.

"I don't know you enough to take you at your word." Another huff, another denial. Anything to keep his precious world from falling apart.

Let's try a different approach. "How about this, do you know anyone who can block memories and get into your head?"

A pause to think about it. "Mother Mayhem?"

Interesting name. "And has Mother Mayhem ever shown anyone that she's capable of that?"

"Um...no. But that doesn't mean she couldn't!"

"Just like how Kori has never shown she can block memories but she is perfectly able to do so?" she mocked.

A gasp. "Kori can block memories?!"

Oh, for the love of!

"As far as I know, she can't. She only learns languages from kissing—!" Rachel shut herself up at that point, her face turning red at that particular memory she wished she could block.

And maybe Garfield was a little more observant than she gave him credit for. "Did she kiss you? Aw man, and I missed it! That's so not fair! Hey, do you think you can do it again in front of me? So I'm caught up on everything. Okay?"

"No!" she exclaimed.

"What, is she a bad kisser?"

Don't dignify that with a response. Don't dignify that with a response. Don't dignify—

"It's not that important!" _Damn it!_

"How's two good-looking chicks kissing not important?" Garfield wondered out loud.

Rachel did not know whether to be insulted by being called a chick, or pleased that she was called good-looking. Wait, why did any of that matter?

"Hey, hey! What if you two kiss again and I spill all my guts about whatever you want?" the green changeling suggested, bouncing in his seat excitedly despite the bungee cords restraining him.

"And how about I spill your guts all over this room instead, no kissing involved?" she growled as a spike of anger almost made her do just that.

"Whoa. You look angry. It's...it's kinda hot."

Epiphany finally struck her. She was dealing with something far worse than a zealot. Far worse than an overly-devout believer. The bane of all logic and reason in the world.

She was dealing with an idiot.

"I believe that you have been telling the truth," she said stiffly.

"You do?"

"You don't know anything. At all."

"Hey! I know lots of stuff!" Garfield protested indignantly.

"But apparently nothing of the motives of your savior or to question the reasons why anyone would try to 'save' a person able to transform into any animal he wanted. Why would you ever need to be rescued in the first place?" Rachel snapped back. "I don't think anyone knows the extent of your abilities, not even yourself. But for a man who demands blood offerings and orders the death of individuals whom have never met him, I would think a man like that would have an ulterior motive. Perhaps one strong enough to hide away _your_ memories. I have no idea what powers he is using, or why he wants me dead when I have done nothing that deserves a death sentence from him of all people.

"All I have heard from you is a weak defense. Because he saved you but you can't even answer from what. There comes a time when a man's actions can no longer be defended, no matter what deeds he has committed in the past. If nothing else, answer me this: why has he not come to save you this time?"

"Has anybody ever told you that yelling and screaming at someone is not a good way to get people to talk with you?" The green shapeshifter growled at the cloak-wearing girl.

Rachel drew back, patience at an end. "I see my words are wasted on you. You have my pity Garfield."

She left that guest room, closing the door softly behind her despite the desire to slam it shut. Her frustration was beginning to cloud her judgment; nothing good would ever come from that. She needed to center herself as soon as possible. That would be for the benefit of everyone.

As she passed through the living room, she spotted Victor from the corner of her eye. Her half-robotic friend had taken a seat on the couch, which had courageously not collapsed under his weight.

"He's all yours," she stated as she headed for the set of stairs, ignoring the look of confusion from the closest person to a friend that she had directed towards her.


	17. Those Who Are Stripped of Freedom

Those Who Are Stripped of Freedom

His robes fluttering behind him, Brother Blood arrived before his Sisters, having received a summons from them. It was not often such a thing happened; more often it was him going to them on his own whim.

But when it was the other way around, there was something of vital importance at stake.

"I hope this is good, Sisters," he announced himself as he came to a stop several feet from the pool of blood the Sisters used for their divinations.

"Brother," all three greeted, bowing their heads slightly in welcome.

"What is this about? It had best be worth my time," Blood drawled out, a hint of steel in his voice. He greatly disliked being the one called on and not the one doing the calling. Was he not their leader? Certainly not their dog who came when called for.

"We present you with glorious tidings," the lead Sister announced, her slim face as smooth as marble under her frizzy ball of black hair. "At long last, we have identified the Key you have long searched for."

Blood wouldn't admit it, but his heart skipped a beat. After all this time, hemming and hawing, and delay after delay after delay, the very tool that would grant him access to the glorious Red and power unimaginable. Surprise was quickly replaced with eagerness.

"Speak, Sisters. Bestow upon me your wisdom," he spoke in a hushed tone. It was as if he was fearful that speaking any louder would destroy this momentous occasion, not that he ever feared anything.

To his pleasure, the three Sisters turned to their divination pool, each standing an equal distance from the others. No time being wasted with talk, very good. Holding their hands in front of them, they made quick flowing gestures, lips moving rapidly in a chant heard only to theirselves.

All the actions, however, took place in the pool. The blood held within it began to churn, moving of its own volition. Directly in the middle, it began to rise, taking the shape of a column. Soon, revelation would be bestowed on him, and the master of this domain could not wait another second as he held his breath in anticipation.

Once reaching an appropriate height, the column of blood ceased rising and began to shrink on itself slightly, slimming down and taking on new features that would reveal the highly desired key.

It didn't take long for Blood to identify the shape as that of a person. That was the head there, shoulders there, torso, waist… But who was it? There had better not be any vagueness of who the key was, otherwise the Sisters were going to have a reason to be regretful. He was done with the mind games that came with any involvement with magic.

Fortunately for the trio of seers, physical features such as the face and musculature were part of their blood-divined creation. Shaggy hair, a face in the midst of puberty that was only beginning to lose its baby fat, a canine peeking out from a pair of mischievous lips—wait a minute.

It seems he did not need to be informed of this person's name or identity. He already knew who it was.

"You mean to tell me that Garfield is the key?" That was more of a statement than a question, but he wanted the confirmation anyway. He was struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that he had had the Key that would give him access to the Red within his possession this whole time. What a stroke of luck! At the same time, there appeared to be no connection with the changeling; he was green, not red!

"Whether the child knows it or not, he has been tapping into the Red for much time. It is the source of his bodily manipulations as well as being able to take the shape of all animals, even if he has not come in direct contact with such beasts. The Red has a long memory, Brother," the lead Sister said.

Indeed it does, he mused.

Not to be making a pun, but perhaps the greenness of Garfield's skin was in and of itself a red herring. Who would think to look for a person who tapped into the Red on a regular basis when they had no features that hinted towards it? Having red skin instead of green would have been more obvious. It was something to think about later, to try and grasp this inconsistency and more than likely fail to.

A smirk curved Blood's lips. "I guess the Ravagers no longer need to eliminate those obstacles. All I need to do is summon Garfield to my side. Simple enough."

"The Key is not within your reach."

The silence that fell after that announcement was ominous.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked carefully.

"The key has fallen into the possession of the obstacles." The liquid-based image of Garfield morphed, forming the floor plan of an undisclosed building. With the outer walls removed, he could see in full detail every object and person, moving from room to room or keeping themselves busy with mundane tasks. Immediately, he recognized three of the individuals in the vision, one Garfield and two being the obstacles the Sisters themselves had warned him of. The fourth he had no idea who she was. But she did have a body…

"How did this happen?" he growled, not expecting an answer. The only opportunity for such circumstances like these to have come about could only have occurred...after he had assigned the green boy to his Ravagers and sent them out to…

"You could not have informed me of this sooner?" Blood snarled, immediately behind the lead Sister, a hand wrapped around her neck and applying pressure. Disrupting her, the image created by the pool of blood collapsed and return to its fluid state. "Like, say, before I allowed that boy out of my sight? Your warning to me about those four becoming obstacles are now a self-fulfilling prophecy! Now I have expended resources I did not need to in order to regain an orphan whom I have already purchased!"

"My...apologies," the Sister choked out, Blood's fingers digging into her throat. "It is...difficult...to find...what you seek...through our means...of conjury. Only when...it is the...appropriate time...does anything become...clear."

"I have heard the spiel one too many times." He released the Sister anyway, letting her fall to her knees.

"Brother, if I may be so bold, why did you not know of the Key's absence?" the red-haired Sister inquired.

As he opened his mouth to retort, Blood snapped his jaw closed. That was a very good question. Why had he not been informed? Who would have the balls to keep such information away from him?

"We will have words later," Blood threw over his shoulder as he stormed out of the chamber.

Through labyrinth-esque hallways, the ruler of this shadow world stalked his way towards an unknown destination. By chance or misfortune, Mother Mayhem, found herself caught in his warpath and could only point him in the correct direction. Leaving her in his wake, Blood made his way towards his unfortunate victim, bursting into the area that was cordoned off specifically for the improvement of his Ravagers.

All goings on in the large, cavernous room came to a halt, numerous young eyes wide in surprise and shock. He spared no time for them, his gaze focused on one Ravager in particular. Frozen in shock, along with his brethren, Warblade was the unlucky soul to face his master's wrath this day.

"Did you think you could hide this from me?!" Blood roared, his hand finding and gaining purchase on the blade-wielding teen's neck, lifting the lithe body into the air with ease and singlehandedly throttle the boy. "Why would you say nothing to me, hmm? What were you thinking? ANSWER ME!"

By this point, Blood's vision was red, and this was known to all as his eyes had also become consumed with the color. Blood asserted his will over the metal-masked youth, mentally commanding those extremely dangerous hands to lower and thus render him helpless. Yet this wasn't enough for the older man, far from it. His rage demanded satisfaction, and he would have it.

"Brother Blood! You're killing him!" a voice exclaimed. Faintly, he was aware that Mother Mayhem was nearby, obviously shocked at his actions.

However, she was right, and death would only cut short any suffering he could inflict on this moron. Mercy would be granted, but when he was through, mercy would see like a horrible stay of execution. He threw Warblade away like he was common garbage, sneering as the teen smacked against a wall without any of his usual grace.

Allowing a moment for his ex-favorite Ravager to pick himself up, Blood demanded his next statement. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? That you could withhold such important information and get out of it unscathed? Boy, you have no idea what your stupidity has gotten you into."

"What is the meaning of this? Brother, answer me!" Mayhem tried to intervene.

"Have I not treated you well? Put a roof over your head? Fed you? Trained you? And this is how you repay me?" Blood roared, lashing out through his connection with the Ravager leader. The cry of pain from the teen only egged him on.

"Brother Blood, this is unbecoming of you! I demand you cease—"

A sharp eye, stopped the Mother from speaking further. There was fear at his fury, of course, but also confusion. Now why would she have such a stupid look on her face? Didn't she know? No, she didn't. Not yet.

"The Sisters have found the Key," he stated testily. "It is in the possession of young Garfield. Warblade has misplaced the boy. Does that answer your question?"

While the Ravagers traded confused looks, not understanding what was being said in front of them, Mayhem's eyes widened at the revelation. "Are you sure?" she pressed.

"For once in their useless lives, they have given me a clear and specific vision. There is no vagueness or doubt. That green brat has been my ticket to the Red this whole time and thanks to him," a hand gestured to the fallen Warblade, "he is out of my reach."

"Then he must make reparations, must he not?" Mayhem suggested, trying to soothe the anger that was almost blinding him. "Since he lost the boy, should Warblade not be the one to retrieve him?"

"After he has already failed me once to kill a group of individuals far below his combat ability? Why? Why allow him another chance to fail me?" Mayhem had better give him a damn good answer or Warblade would find out why you didn't pull the wool over his eyes.

"Did you not say it yourself. You have invested too much in him to throw it away out of anger. To kill him now would be to waste all those resources training him. Do not forget, this is the only time he has failed you. Let him prove himself once more, and bring back the Key. Should he fail this time, I will not stand up for him again." Everything spoken calmly and coldly. All of it logical. It did little to soothe his rage, but it did penetrate enough to allow Blood to think.

"Fine," he spat out. "He corrects his mistake. Death will be placed on him should he fail. Before I leave this matter to you, what are you willing to give? Your future is tied with his success."

"I will welcome death, should you see fit to bestow it on me. You do not need a servant who cannot produce results," Mayhem answered immediately.

"I will take you at your word. In the meantime, I will sequester myself. Instruct all not to disturb me," Blood warned.

Turning on his heel, he stomped out of the room, his eyes still glowing a furious red.

* * *

Victor thought ruefully that he had learned more about his cybernetic body in the last couple days than he had in all the time since he first got it. What kind of nasty tricks had his father incorporated into him? Arms that could morph into laser cannons. Immense strength. Wifi connection. And, of course, most important of all, an antivirus program.

Understandably, it was the last two that he had been using the most lately. Now, he was surfing the net and all, trying to find the stuff that Red Robin wanted him to find, but his surfing was not how most people surfed the internet.

His actual consciousness was in there, surrounded by an ocean of information and data that held humanity's' greatest achievements. Those were memes, cat videos, and porn. That last one explained why his antivirus program was getting a workout.

Once you got past all that, finding the dark web didn't prove too challenging. What you could find there, though, that was enough to make him feel sick, and Victor didn't know he could still feel that way. Assassins-for-hire, snuff films, drug markets, slave trades, if it was illegal, you could find it there.

And Red Robin expected him to wade through this shit? The metal teen was going to have a long talk with that guy about this. Victor was seeing things he had never wanted to see before.

In the background, he noted there was a groan. "Aw man, my neck. Are you guys always going to have me tied to a chair? It's not very comfortable to sleep in." And the Grass Stain was up, complaining about his imprisonment.

Putting his digital searches on autopilot, so to speak, Victor tuned back into the real world. You know a place that didn't have assassins-for-hire and slavery. Heh heh, crap.

"Did you say something?" he asked, knowing that it would annoy the green kid. His auditory sensors had picked up and recorded Garfield's every word. And now those words were deleted. How nice.

"Can you untie me? I need...I need to stretch a little. I'm getting cramps," Garfield complained.

"Is it your time of the month?" the half-robotic teen quipped, a smirk on his lips.

"My time of the month? What's that suppose to...oh, you're an asshole." Took him a bit to catch that.

"It's a gift," he replied. "Sorry, but the ropes aren't coming off. If you wait a bit, I'll see if I can't get you something to eat."

Coincidentally, there was a low growl from where the green kid sat. "But I'm hungry now!" Garfield whined, doing his best and failing miserably to kick his legs out like a little kid.

"I guess that's a good thing about being a Cyborg. Don't have to worry about cramps or getting hungry," Victor teased, already turning his attention back to his dark web searches.

"That's so not fair! Why do you get to be the awesome robot guy who's not tied to a chair?" Another whine, another complaint to ignore.

So, anything on this Brother Blood character? Outside of the official website, which you had to know was completely fake. Learn all about a cult obsessed with blood, though we say we aren't! Right up there with those rattlesnake churches, these guys were. Out there and trying to convince the world they weren't crazy.

"Duuuude. What are you doing?" That was a surprise. Somehow the Grass Stain could make his voice annoying enough to break through anybody's concentration.

"I'm doing some web searches. Trying to find anything on your Brother Blood hero." There wasn't any kind of risk of telling this kid about that, right?

"Why would you want to do that when I could tell you everything you need to know?" Garfield wondered.

"You have a bias, Grass Stain. Plus, Brother Blood would have all the motive in the world to show you his good side. Everybody has a dark side and that's what I'm trying to find. So unless you can tell me something about that, it's to the internet with all its trolls and bigots." There, simple enough explanation, right?

Pointed, green ears drooped slightly. "He's scary when he yells," the green shapeshifter muttered. Good thing those auditory sensors were sensitive enough to catch that.

"Everyone is scary when they yell. Got to do better than that, man." Victor rolled his eyes to add emphasis to it.

"Terra wants to get away from him for some reason. Is that helpful?" Garfield asked, offering another piece of information.

"Sounds like this Terra is smart. You should listen to her more," the cyborg replied, only half-listening at this point. He may not know who this Terra was...actually he really didn't know. "Is Terra a girl or a boy?"

"A girl? Why are you asking me that?"

Refining searches. Looking for dirty old men into young girls. Terra was young, right?

"How old is Terra?"

"I don't know. Same age as me, I guess?"

"So she's a teen?"

"She doesn't look like an adult."

Keep up with the new search then. Since Blood was willing to put a kid like this into a group of killers, what are the odds this guy shopped around for them? Hell, let's also add Garfield to the mix. If anything came up, it would be some hard evidence against the green kid's hero worship of the guy.

What the? That was quick! Already a hit from the slavery sites. Nicholas Galtry. This was something from a year or two ago. A kid with green skin and shape changing abilities? What were the odds there were two people in the world like that? Well, there was proof someone had put the poor kid up for auction but nothing on who bought him. Looks like someone knew how to cover digital tracks.

Returning to the real world, Victor glanced over at Garfield with no little pity. The little guy didn't really have much of a clue, did he? And if he was sold online, and paid for by the leader of a blood cult, how would a guy like that take such information?

This would have to be shared with the others. Rachel and Red Robin at the least. The first so that she could get some sort of vindication. The other because this would be something the guy would be interested in.

"Hey Cyborg? Can I ask you something?" Garfield was looking a little sheepish right now.

"Shoot," he replied.

"I don't know what her name is, but that girl who was in here earlier, the one in all the dark colors? I don't think she really likes me. Do you know why she's pissed at me?" Talk about a hand-in-the-cookie-jar look. Where was this coming from and why was Garfield acting like that? He and Rachel had only just met so why would a little attitude from her result in this?

"She's like that with most people. Doesn't really like to be around them," he answered. "Don't ask me why, she was like that too when I met her."

"But she yelled at me. Said mean things."

"One of those things is not uncommon for her. What did you do or say that got her to yell? I haven't even gotta that far."

"She was saying horrible things about Blood. He saved my life. Why shouldn't I defend him?" A put-out expression formed on the green kid's face.

Oh, whether he knew it or not, Garfield was making this harder on him. "You two obviously have strong opinions on it. I'm not going to get into the middle of it. You believe what you want to, no one should force you to believe anything. Same goes the other way; you can't force her to believe what you want her to believe either. Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to something."

"No! Wait! It's boring in here!" And back were the complaints. "Keeping me tied up like this has to be against some law! Like one of those war crime ones! You can't keep me like this!"

The surprising part was he was right. They were holding him against his will. False imprisonment was the correct term. It didn't help that none of them had any hard proof that this kid had tried to kill them a while back. Their word against his.

Though, that would be something to see. How would it go? Garfield here was green and the image of him telling the cops that he was being held against his will would be an odd sight to see. Especially considering the lot of them were weirdos themselves.

"There's not a lot to do around here anyway. It's not like we go out in public whenever we want," he felt obligated to point out.

"Huh? Why wouldn't you?" Garfield wondered.

Victor gave the kid a look. It took a little time, but eventually, the little guy caught on.

"Oh, right, the robot thing. Sorry. Forgot about that," Garfield said sheepishly.

"Now if you don't mind. I have stuff I need to do. Websites to check with some disturbing shit on them. So keep quiet and don't bother me for a bit, alright?"

"Hold on, you're on the internet?" the Grass Stain asked. "Like right now?"

"Yeah." He let a little annoyance creep into his voice. This guy could take a hint, couldn't he?

"You don't also have to pay attention to whatever you're doing too, right?" Apparently not.

"Where are you trying to go with this?" Victor decided to cut to the heart of the matter.

"I got an idea," Garfield replied, a mischievous look on his face. "Wanna hear?"

By all accounts, Victor should say no and go about his day digging through some sick shit. Naturally, he couldn't deny the point about putting his search inquiries on autopilot. Then there was his curiosity as to what exactly this guy would say.

When you put it all together, was there any wonder why he said, "I'm listening."

* * *

There were many concepts on this planet that Koriand'r figured she would have to learn at some point. One such concept that baffled her was that of knocking on a wood-based barrier in order to gain access to a room that was occupied. It was a bit odd to her and she hadn't given any thought to it when she entered the room that Rachel had sequestered herself in after interrogating their prisoner.

The way the earthling had moved, her emotional turmoil, and the sharpness of her voice had informed the Tamaranian that the interrogation had not gone well.

Oddly enough, such body language, both the verbal and nonverbal, reminded her of home. Such displays of negative emotions were commonplace when her sister was around. While inquiring into such moods tended to result in backlashes of fury, Koriand'r hoped that Rachel would not be similar in that regard.

"Haven't you ever been told to knock before entering a room?"

Thus the concept of knocking on the wood-based barrier. No, she had not been told of such a thing before.

"This is the first time I have been informed of that," the exiled Tamaranian informed the moody female.

"For future reference, if someone is in a room, you knock on the door to alert them that you are on the other side. It is also to check if someone is in the room in the first place," Rachel told her irritably. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to center myself."

"I had not known that. Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me." Koriand'r had sincerely meant that. That a dark-colored eye had opened up and glared at her in return had not been anticipated as a response. Had she not been sincere enough? Then perhaps this would make amends better. "I was concerned about your earlier rage. It appeared as if your interrogation was not as successful as you had hoped. Would you like to talk about it?"

"For your information, I would not like to talk about that." Another reminder of her sister, that tone of voice. "Leave."

Before, she would have obeyed such a request. It was perfectly within reason. However, her personal experiences had shown her where such a path would go. Before, she had accepted demands for solitude from a loved one, and it had not ended well. So this time, she would not accede. She would pursue instead and see where that path would take her.

"Pardon me, but I do not believe I shall do that. Instead, I request that you share what is bothering you. It is my understanding that speaking of issues that disturb you is better than not speaking about them. I wish to listen as you pour out what afflicts you, that I may then aid you with words of wisdoms that will soothe your mind and soul."

There was no forthcoming reply. Rachel maintained eye contact, but it appeared that she was "not all there." It made Koriand'r worry a bit for the human's well-being. She had never seen any of them with an expression like this before…

Suddenly blinking her eyes rapidly, Rachel seemed to pull herself out of the odd state she had fallen into. "That is...appreciated," the young female said slowly, "but not necessary. I need time alone, that is all. Return downstairs if you would."

"I would once again have to refuse your request. Do speak with me, young Rachel. Perhaps you may be able to free yourself from what disturbs you," the exile insisted. She stepped further into the room approaching the female who sat on the floor, legs bent to the sides and feet tucked under them.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" Rachel commented, raising an eyebrow at the display of passion.

"I have been told that before," she admitted as she continued to tower over the younger female. "Now, lest I forget, do begin with the speaking of your brain matter, please."

"And not as easily distracted as some people," Rachel muttered, though the Tamaranian heard her. "Fine. Garfield was not as forthcoming with any new information as I had hoped. His unwillingness to listen to reason, in a word, frustrates me. I always find it difficult to speak with those who refuse to listen and continue to defend the indefensible."

"You mean you take issue with Gar's loyalty to one whom he perceives as a positive influence in his life?" That was the best way she could explain it to herself based on her own time in their prisoner's company as well as the minimalistic conversations she had with the human girl in front of her.

"That is...one way to put it," Rachel confirmed. "I…" a pause, "...would you mind sitting down? Craning my head back is beginning to make my neck cramp."

"Of course," Koriand'r agreed, dropping onto her knees, folding her lower legs beneath her. Placing her hands onto her lap, she waited for the younger human to continue.

"Thank you," Rachel began again.

"You are most welcome!" the Tamaranian interrupted, then smiling sheepishly as she realized her rudeness. "Apologies."

"As I was saying… I do not find loyalty to be a bad trait to have. What I take issue with is that said loyalty is directed towards an individual of questionable reputation," the cloak-wearing girl continued with her explanation. "This Brother Blood has already expressed hostility towards myself and almost every other person under this roof. One for whom death is readily handed out with no provocation is not someone who anyone should swear loyalty to."

"You object to Brother Blood's persecution of you. That is more than reasonable, my friend. There is no nobler calling than to defend your life." Koriand'r gave what she hoped was a comforting smile.

Rachel appeared taken aback. "That's...thank you, I guess."

Koriand'r's smile diminished slightly. "Once you have taken a life, you become acutely aware of its mass. When you fight for your own, you learn how much you wish to keep it."

"You talk like you have personal experience," the human female remarked.

The Tamaranian exile nodded her head in the affirmative. "I do. Tamaran is not the most peaceful planet. There is much fighting, and often you find that you must face your fellow Tamaranian in combat. There is very little different between the two of you, only what ideology you have. That is more than enough to pit friend against friend, families against families, and sister against sister."

She couldn't help it. That last part, while unintentional, was uttered anyway. That was a wound that had yet to fully heal. It wasn't the fighting, though, which caused the most pain. It was what happened after the fighting had ended that hurt the most.

"You have had your own struggles. With family no less. I...I understand that more than you would think. Let's say my family life is not an ideal one either." Rachel attempted some kind of comforting smile, at least that's what Koriand'r thought it was. Did this female not smile often? It looked like most of her face was pulling back too tightly against the skull. There was a flicker in those dark eyes followed by more words. "I have no idea why I shared that."

"Perhaps you were trying to be empathic?" she suggested.

Rachel shook her head. "That's a story all on its own. A while ago, you mentioned something about taking a life. Do you have personal experience with that?"

 _She released the energy she held, the green colored bolt racing through air and space and striking the Gordanian on the other side, piercing through his armor as if it did not provide any protection. Yellow eyes widened, almost bulging out of their sockets as a green-skinned hand lifted up to probe the hole. Pitching forward, the slaver collapsed in front of her, lying still as smoke fumed from his back._

The memory made her squirm. The battle for survival on this unknown world had taken up too much of her attention. The quest for language acquisition had demanded more. She simply had not had the time to reflect on her escape and everything that had occurred during the brief, adrenaline-filled grab for freedom.

But she could not forget those widened, yellow eyes, so filled with surprise and shock, and how they darkened right before facing the floor. It sickened the Tamaranian to think that she was the one responsible for it. There may not have been any love lost between herself and her slavers, but to visit death on them?

Only in recent battles had such things occurred on Tamaran. Death, while an honor, was not acceptable on the battlefield.

That hadn't been a battlefield, but a cell. A cell on a ship destined to arrive at a fortress where her master was waiting for her. Surely by now that ship had arrived, and the foul Trogaar would know that she was not on it. What would he do, though? Would this planet's reputation keep him away? Would it offer the protection she craved but did not deserve?

Exiting her thoughts, she answered, "Sometimes freedom comes with a price. A toll is required before escape can be allowed. It does not remove my culpability in the act, and I regret having to do it. If I could do it again, I would do a different approach."

"You've…? What happened to you that robbed you of your freedom?" Rachel's attention was fully captivated in a promising tale.

"It is a story that requires too much exposition to properly tell," Koriand'r admitted. "You must know more of Tamaran first to grasp the significance of the events that led to my enslavement."

"Not necessarily. I grasp the concept of slavery more than you imagine. This planet is not without its own darkness," Rachel replied. "Slavery has existed here. Continues to exist. You do not need to go into detail of that. It does make me wonder who would put you into bondage? From everything you have shown me, told me, and how you behaved around others, it makes me wonder what sort of person…" The human trailed off, an epiphany reaching her. "...I don't have to wonder who that person was. Earlier, you said it. It was your sister that sold you."

How Rachel was able to reach that conclusion so quickly startled the Tamaranian. Yet, that did not mean she was wrong. In fact, horribly, it was true, all true.

"You are very insightful, Rachel. Very much so." Koriand'r was proud that her voice did not crack. "There is nothing else I may say other than you are correct."

"I'm...I'm sorry, Koriand'r," the cloak-wearing female said softly.

"Do not be. Never be sorry for the truth." Was it her or was her vision growing blurry? Was she experiencing optical leakage? A quick rub of her eyes corrected it for the time being. "I believe it is for that reason that I am able to understand why Gar is stubborn of his protection of Brother Blood. If someone were to have saved me from a such a dark fate, I myself would defend that person no matter how reprehensible they are."

"Except Garfield can't name what it was that he was saved from. The manipulation of his memories is too suspect. I have a feeling that our resident Grass Stain was not rescued as he has claimed. He may have been told that, but what the truth truly is has escaped me."

Rachel made valid points. What had been so bad that Garfield, with his shapeshifting abilities, would require such salvation? And if his salvation required the changing of his memories, was there even a salvation in the first place? There was a detail missing, and it was obvious to both of these females.

"Mayhap when we confront this Brother Blood, we will find out the answer," Koriand'r suggested.

"That would require us finding him first," Rachel said dryly.

"And since we are unable to do so at this moment, perhaps we can speak of something else to while the time away?" This was a topic that was disturbing her, and the Tamaranian wished to move on to something else lighter in its content. In fact, she had such a topic in mind.

"Since we're getting nowhere with Blood, I suppose we can. What do you want to talk about?" Rachel asked, shrugging her shoulders.

"I have been hearing a lot about this recently. Do you know what this Throne of Games is and is it any fun?"

* * *

Shoving his books into his locker, Tim had to pull another set out for his next class. Like yesterday, today was dragging a bit. Maybe that had to do with his after school activities. He was impatient to learn about what Victor and Rachel had come up with.

Especially since last night hadn't really resulted in much. He had pretty much prowled the city with Cassie for a few hours, and shook down some folks. These folks had some connection to the Church of the Savior and Saint's Blood, but what information they possessed was worthless.

It wasn't that they wouldn't talk. In fact, Tim had had more problems getting them to shut up. Most of what spewed out of their mouths were curses and accusations of discrimination for religious beliefs. Expect a call from lawyers, they were going to be sued.

The rebuttal was usually Cassie's fist.

So yeah, more or less it was a bust. The teen was no stranger to such nights, but it didn't stop the disappointment that always followed. He didn't think he would ever get used to the feeling.

So here he was with the mundane part of his life. School, school, and more school. You know, if there was a way he could get out of doing it, he'd take it in a heartbeat. But as long as he was still living with his parents, their rules came first.

Closing the locker door, the put upon teen turned to head to his next class and had to jerk back as a very familiar sight stood barely a foot away. What the hell was Cassie doing there and…why she looking at him?

"You're new," she stated, and man, even in civilian mode her eyes were piercing.

"Um, yeah?" he answered hesitantly. He didn't like how she was looking at him.

Her lips quirked, a half-smile forming. "The name's Cassie Sandsmark. Caught you staring at me the other day."

The other day being yesterday. "Sorry about that. Hadn't seen you around before," he apologized, proud he hadn't stuttered or spoken to quickly.

"I know. I'm out a lot. So what's your name? All I know is you're new."

Christ, he felt cornered. But wait, why was he feeling uncomfortable? She didn't know who she was! And he could pass off any signs of nervous as being intimidated by her beauty or something. It wasn't far off from the truth.

"Tim. You can call me Tim," he replied, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

That half-smile remained on her lips, "You know, I think I've seen you before, but I'm not quite sure where."

"I think I have one of those faces. You're not the first person to say that me." Yeah, cast yourself off as generic. The last thing you want to do is let Cassie of all people find out your alter ego. She was already pissed enough as it was that you knew who she was. Just imagine what she would do if the situation were reversed.

"That might be it," the blonde bombshell agreed. She took a second to push some of her hair over her shoulder. "So where do you come from? Up north, down south?"

"Out east." Why did he say that? "Didn't really have a choice in the matter."

"The 'rents?"

"The 'rents." A nod of confirmation. "You know how it goes."

"Better than you know. I wasn't born here either. But it grew on me. Heh, seems like only yesterday _I_ was the new kid." That half-smile now had a nostalgic undertone to it. No, wait, it wasn't a half-smile anymore. The other side was curved upwards as well. She looked even prettier now.

"Was it tough for you?" Tim found himself asking, though the reason why escaped him.

"I'm used to it. Used to be all over the place before my mom decided enough was enough and we're sticking to one place," Cassie answered. That answer wasn't entirely truthful; where was the part about Gateway? Going on digs though, that could account for it. "Why she chose Gateway, I have no idea." Oh, there it was.

"Then what are you doing in Jump? And why does Gateway sound familiar?" he asked.

"The reason I'm here now is because of Gateway. That's the city where you can find Wonder Woman," the blonde explained. "Things got crazy there so another move was made. Here I am. So what about you? What brought your folks to Jump?"

"New job on top of things getting crazy back east. We were way too close to Gotham when that dirty bomb went off." Okay Drake, stop dropping all those hints. Sure, Cassie looked nicer now having a civil conversation with you instead of trying to ram her fist through your face. That did not change the fact that she could potentially figure you out. Stop giving her clues, damn it!

"You must have a lot of stories then. You mind hanging out sometime? I could show you some of the better places around here."

By all reason, he should turn her down, make something up. Anything. Because saying yes would be a bad thing. It was too risky, he could blurt something out that would give him away. It was a bad, bad, bad, bad, _bad_ thing to say yes to.

Then Cassie tilted her head in such a way that it looked like she was peering up at him through her eyelashes. The blues of her irises were so...so...blue…

"Sure. I can do that."

 _Goddamn it, Drake!_

"You don't know this yet, but you're a lifesaver," Cassie remarked. "I could use some time out of the house. So you want to meet after school? Head out from there?"

This time, he was able to stop himself. "Today? Can't do today." That was great, Drake. Now, string her along a little bit more and maybe you could talk yourself out of this one. "But I could do tomorrow." _What the hell were you thinking?!_ "Unless tomorrow's not good for you?" A little too late to try and make up for lost ground but it was a start.

"I can do tomorrow. So after school? Me and you."

"Yeah, sounds great."

By this point, Tim had given up with trying to avoid it. For some reason, he didn't know why, he was going along with this now. Like he had given up and given in to fate.

"See you later then." Cassie gave him a wink as she moved around and past him, leaving the dark-haired teen to walk along to his next class.

The first thing Tim wanted to do was ram his own fist into his own face because what the hell? What the hell had he been thinking? Why, oh why, had he been that honest? There was all the reason in the world not to be honest with Cassie Sandsmark of all people! She was a lot smarter than she let on. Wait, he knew now, he _wasn't_ thinking!

He was not thinking at all. For the life of him, he had no idea why. It was like his mind had gone blank in a way and his body went on autopilot. But what could have caused that? This was Cassie he was speaking with, a girl who had only expressed contempt and anger towards him. Except this time when she appeared as friendly as anybody else. And as pretty as her physical features said she was. It was really weird knowing what she did behind everyone's backs but having not to say anything about it to avoid incriminating himself.

Tim was oblivious to the bell sounding as he stood there in the hallway.

* * *

When school finally ended, uncharacteristically distracted throughout it all, Tim had gotten suited back up, geared up, and returned back to the home of the girl whom he had made a play date with earlier.

Kinda surreal now that he was thinking more clearly about it.

That aside, when he had arrived, the last thing the vigilante had expected to find was a grievous misuse of government property that most likely costed billions of dollars, at the minimum, to develop being used in a manner that was incredibly juvenile and downright an abuse of taxpayer dollars.

"Dude, you're going _down_ this time!"

"That's what you said that last twenty times, Grass Stain."

"Yeah, but this is _my_ level. I am the master here—what?! Dude, you are cheating!"

"It's all skill, baby. Skill you don't have!"

"Oh that is it!"

There was so much that Red Robin could accept. A man dressing up as a bat and doing better at fighting crime than cops. Men who decided the fate of others with the flip of a coin. A gorgeous blond in armor that could fly and had superstrength. An alien amazon who learned languages through kissing. A cult leader obsessed with blood who wanted them dead and had a team of assassins to do his bidding. But this, this one took the cake.

Victor, a teen who had lost most of his body and had it replaced with some of the most sophisticated cybernetic technology on the planet was using that equipment to connect to the internet and play video games on a TV that he had probably hacked into. Oh, and he was playing said games with a green-colored shapeshifter—what the hell was he doing not being tied up?

"What are you doing?!" the vigilante exclaimed, eyes widening behind his mask as his body tensed up in preparation for a fight.

"I'm kicking the Grass Stain's butt in a first person shooter, that's what," Victor answered without missing a beat. His avatar on the screen was weaving around high-definition corners in a digital landscape, firing off shot after shot from his weapon of choice, trying to kill his opponent with extreme prejudice. In front of the cyborg, a holographic display shimmered in the air, a large metal hand tapping on a keypad at lightning speeds.

Hold on, he could only see one hand. Where was the other? Victor's left hand was missing. How and when did that happen...oh, there it was. Garfield was holding the disconnected hand, thumbs dancing against the hand's fingertips like the appendage was a game controller.

"This controller sucks," the shapeshifter complained, moving his body side to side, shoulders hunched so that they were nearly touching pointed ears.

"It's just fine," Victor replied smoothly. Human eye suddenly widening in rage, he roared, "What the hell!"

"Boom! Headshot!" Garfield crowed, celebrating.

"Oh, you are asking for it!" Victor hissed as he waited to respawn.

Red Robin had let his jaw open slightly, trying to wrap his mind around this latest development. This was becoming too much for him. Really it was. He could take the shit he had been through in Gotham, duking it out with assassins and Cassie, and the existence of aliens themselves. This was crossing the line. Somehow, this crossed the line. All that hardware and using it as a video game console.

Just...just why?

"Yo, Red Robin. You want a piece of this action after I kick Gar's butt again?" Victor asked, not taking his human and his robotic eye off the TV screen.

"You mean when I kick your butt," Garfield refuted.

"Gar?" Red Robin repeated, grasping onto the first thing he could.

"Shorter than Garfield and he responds better to it," the half-robotic teen replied.

"And why is Gar untied and in here?" A pleasant enough question to ask.

"Needed someone to play with and the girls are doing girl stuff." As if realizing what he was saying, Victor raised his head up abruptly. "This was totally his idea and one thing led to another—"

"Hey, you didn't complain last I checked! All I did was ask if you could download any games," Gar argued back, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

"But you were the one who wanted to try them out!" Victor retorted.

"That's what you do with games! You play them! Everybody knows that!"

Neither stopped playing as they argued with one another.

If you didn't know anything about either of them, you would have to say they sounded like friends. Sort of. Debatable.

"Is this what you've been doing? All day?" The vigilante's voice almost cracked as he asked those questions, dreading the answer.

Surprisingly, it was their green captive who answered, grunting, "Not all day. Cyborg's been doing some kind of Google search. What, he won't tell me. I got bored so I looked around. Looked through some stuff. Did you know someone around here is a Catwoman fan?"

By this point, the teen vigilante's brain was short circuiting. Who in their right mind let their captive, their _prisoner_ , walk around the house and find incriminating evidence of one their identities. Well, to be fair, only Cassie's identity would be at risk since this was her house and all. And what was this about Catwoman?

Like a lot of people, Red Robin didn't give much credit to urban legends. The one in question involved a cat burglar who had a thing for stealing antiques and treasures and artworks that was usually cat-themed. Ridiculous, yes, except there were the reports that supported this legend. Sure, they were all over the country, and there were a few unlucky eyewitnesses who saw the burglar, but no one had yet to take a picture or capture this legend.

Though, now that he thought about it, it seemed like Cassie was most likely the fan that Garfield spoke of. Breaking into people's houses? Check. Taking items that did not belong to her? Check. So far unidentified by the general public? Check and mate. A lot of similarities, except the cat get-up as according to the urban legend. Otherwise…

"V—" stopping himself before spouting a name, the vigilante grasped on to the one Garfield had used, "—Cyborg. What about what I asked you to look into?" He'd get back to the Catwoman stuff later. There were other, more important, things to go over first.

"Found a few things that I need to talk with you about," Victor replied, taking his eyes off the TV screen to make eye contact with the masked teen. The human eye was conveying the severity of the knowledge he had found, and Red Robin was able to pick up on it. Looks like this wasn't a complete bust then.

For a second, Victor's human flickered over to the green shapeshifter, a nonverbal message that some of the stuff he had found involved the kid. The vigilante frowned slightly, curious as to what it was. In response, he raised an eyebrow, nonverbally asking him to tell him more.

A nod was the reply, understanding confirmed. An excuse would need to be given in order for the two of them to speak privately.

"Dude! What'cha do! I can't see anything!"

Breaking eye contact, the two teenagers turned back to the television which no longer held a picture of the game that was being played. It was completely black, a white line flickering across the screen to prove that the entertainment device was still on. Garfield was messing with his hand controller, as if that would somehow fix the picture. It didn't.

"C'mon! Turn it back on! I was about to no scope ya!" Garfield continued to complain.

"Don't look at me. _I_ didn't do anything," Victor defended himself. "I only took my eyes off you for a second. What did _you_ do?"

"Nothing! I swear!" the shapeshifter protested. "I only know how to turn it on and change the channel!"

"Did you change the channel?" Victor narrowed his human eye accusingly.

"No! You're the remote, remember!" Garfield retorted.

"What the heck is all this yelling about?" And here was Cassie, back from school. She was still in the clothes he had last seen her in. "And what is he doing on my couch?" Oh, and she also noticed their captive not tied up like he was supposed to be. "Did he do something to my TV?"

"I didn't do anything! It was all Cyborg!" Garfield protested, trying to shift the blame.

"Hold on, something's happening," Red Robin interrupted, narrowing his eyes as more white flickers flickered on the screen picking up in its frequency. Sometimes the screen flashed white before resuming the black background with white lines but it was easy to tell something was up.

Then the image of something that was _not_ human appeared on the screen. A blue-green colored face with thick lips, a wide nose, and red eyes glared out from the television. What looked like a smooth, golden helm encircle the head, forming a dome on top with two protrusions that angled diagonally then vertically. Kinda looked like a samurai helmet, to be honest.

Below the head was a body clad in golden armor, and bare, muscular arms that settled themselves on either side, resting on the flat surface of chair arms. There was almost a scaly quality to that skin, the same blue-green color as the face.

The very image brought silence into the living room as all watching immediately knew something important was up.

From that pair of thick lips, a gruff voice made a bold declaration. " _Attention humans. I am Commander Trogaar of the Citadel, leader of the fourth battalion of the Gordanian military forces. I speak with you to inform that as of now, your city is under_ my _command. Do not attempt to resist or make requests for help. I have taken control of all communications entering and leaving this city. No one will be able to render you aid._

" _Do not try to escape either. Those that leave the perimeter will be destroyed effective immediately. Consider yourself under quarantine until further notice. This will last approximately twelve standard galactic weeks, or twenty four of your hours. At which point, I will annihilate your settlement and all life that resides within._

" _However, there is a way to spare yourselves this fate. I search for a Tamaranian who has hidden itself among you. It resembles a female, possess red-colored hair, orange skin, and green eyes. It wears garments black and silver of a design foreign to you all. If you are able to locate and bring to me this alien, I will relinquish my control over this city and leave without further incident. Of that, you have my word."_

The description this Commander Trogaar gave, it was way too familiar. It described Kori almost to a T. But it didn't need to be exact; how many people on Earth had those specific traits?

Loud booms could be heard in the distance, a sign that this alien meant business. People who were trying to flee were being killed and you didn't need to actually be there to see it to know that that was what was happening. The sounds of explosions were all you needed to know.

" _Remember, you have twenty four hours. Search everywhere. Search anywhere. Find my property, and only then will I return to you your lives._ "

And wasn't that an ominous warning. Having nothing else to say, Trogaar's communication ended, leaving the TV black again. No, wait, the picture of the video game returned, almost everything as it was before the interruption. Except that Garfield's character had died and was waiting to respawn.

The hair on Red Robin's neck prickled, and he looked over his shoulder to the set of stairs where he found none other than Kori herself. She stood on the bottom step, almost shrinking in on herself. Her eyes had widened, but the pupils were shrunk in fear and terror. You could practically see her trembling where she stood.

"By X'hal," she said softly. "He has found me."

* * *

Author's Note: I swear you're good at making predictions, Jackalope089. Calling out Cyborg's super special ability to be a game console several chapters before it happened. I know, probably was a joke you were making, but it was a spot-on one. Are you sure you don't having any super powers I don't know about?


	18. Tragedy from the Heavens

Author's Note: I don't recall exactly, but as ShadowMajin and myself were discussing Starfire's backstory one day, we started joking around about Tamaranian culture, making stuff up, and then came to the conclusion that what we had BS'd was too good not to include in this SMAV universe of ours. So yeah, some liberties about Tamaran have been taken, but I think—not speaking for ShadowMajin here—it adds a little something to her character. Enjoy.

Tragedy from the Heavens

Their alien exile had left some details of her story out.

However, there was not going to be an explosive confrontation about it. No wild accusations thrown about. And no liar revealed bullshit either.

Because this was Kori. The same Kori who had come to their rescue, Red Robin twice, when she didn't have to. Who held a resemblance of honor when it came to "repaying debts." Whose quirks were more endearing than they were annoying. And, whose mannerisms and temperament could not attract the worst towards her.

Answers would be needed, however. Especially with the second alien overlord to come invading this planet in this decade threatening to destroy their homes or use them as a temporary rest stop. They needed to know what they were up against.

Kori had taken a seat on the couch, right between Victor and Garfield. Red Robin himself had taken a position a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Rachel was in a chair herself, and no one would contest it with her. Lastly, Cassie was over by the stairs, leaning against the wooden railing that blocked off a portion of it.

"As you may have surmised, I come from the planet Tamaran," Kori began, fiddling with her hands in her lap. Even though her couch mates had scooted over to give her more room, she kept making an effort to take as little room as possible. "My species, the Tamaranians, is a race of warriors. We do value the times of peace, but we find more enjoyment in conflict. Since we are the dominant species, it is with ourselves that we fight."

Red Robin nodded along. That fell in line with her fighting abilities. So she came from a planet torn by war? Well, he supposed, she wasn't alone in that aspect.

"Periodically, we send some of our young to train with the Warlords of Okaara, sometimes those Warlords come to us. Martial prowess is always exchanged, though Okaara has made attempts of conquest. We have always pushed them back, though it is not for their lack of skills that they fail.

"As I mentioned, Tamarians enjoy the art of warfare. We enjoy testing our skills against one another. We are also highly opinionated, which is why, while able to repulse foreign invaders, we do not agree on governance. It is very common for—I believe this is the proper term—coup d'états to occur."

Another familiar story. There were countries on this planet that seemed to have coups every other year. The picture Kori was painting was that her planet was the equivalent of a third world country. With that in mind, it must not have been an easy life for her.

"My story begins with my family. In particular, it begins with my sister, Komand'r. Unlike the majority of my species, Komand'r has certain physical characteristics that set her apart from the rest. As a result, she has been viewed with fear and suspicion. For her whole life, she has had to endure it. I never cared about it, because she was my sister. My big sister. I loved her as any sister would. Even when she told me to keep my distance from her, I wanted more than anything to have my love for her returned.

"Out of respect, I did so. When the Warlords of Okaara arrived one year, another attempt at conquest masked as 'imparting more of their wisdom unto us,' I trained under them as did my sister. I had hoped that the experiences resulting from their tutelage would bring us together. It was transparent that she was excelling at her martial education. She had always been the more physically dominating of the two of us. I was happy for her.

"Then the Warlords imparted onto her their ideals. They taught her their ways. When we inevitably repelled them, they had left behind their subversive influence. One year...one Tamaranian year later, my sister initiated a coup of her own, and overthrew the government. No one had any problem with that; it is very common. Her coup was unprecedented. It was bloody. People...lost...their lives."

"Wait a minute," Victor interrupted. "Are you saying that your sister's coup was the first one that had people die in it? What about all the other times?"

Red Robin had picked up on that fact too, and he was far too curious to reprimand the half-robotic teen for the interruption. This was way too interesting not to hear out.

Kori frowned, not really understanding. "Other times? Coups are usually a bloodless affair. Yes, there are the broken noses, and the injuries such as broken bones, but very rarely does anyone die. We Tamaranians value life above all else; to take a life is...unconscionable. Which is why Komand'r's coup is unprecedented.

"Only once she had taken control of our world did the Warlord's influence become apparent. The first laws she enacted were...were...heretical. She wanted the position of...I do not know what the word in this language is to describe it, but I suppose 'ruler,' or 'king' would suffice. She wanted whoever was to be our 'ruler' to be in that position for life. Tamaranians had never conceived of such a concept. No one really wants to 'rule' in such a way, and we welcome the coups if only so that whoever is 'ruler' is able to shift responsibilities onto someone else. They are welcome to resist and attempt to maintain their position, but more often than not they relinquish the office. What species wants to have a single 'ruler' that lasts a generation? I don't understand."

Too deep in her confusion, the Tamaranian did not notice the unease between the humans. Red Robin found himself trading looks with the others, all of them feeling as awkward as he was. Too many people on their planet had made themselves President-for-life, claimed to be royalty, and other shit like that.

"Though, now that I think about it, I have come across something similar to a Tamaranian coup on this planet," Kori remarked, becoming thoughtful. "The word you use is odd. I wonder what all an 'election' entails. From the way some of your species acts about it, it is as if the end of all life is approaching. The chaos of both, though, are very similar."

Now that she put it that way, suddenly Tamaranian coups made a lot more sense. Just, instead of voting, it was hand-to-hand combat with the worst being non-life threatening injuries.

Shaking her head as if to rid herself of the tangent, Kori pressed on, "The coup was only the beginning of the bloodshed. When one was attempted to remove my sister from power, she...ended it. There was a lot of blood, a lot of death. It was...there is no word in my native language to describe it.

"What Komand'r, or Blackfire as she ordered herself to be known as, did next… She tore our family apart. I do not know what she did with my parents, nor the fate of my younger brother, Ryand'r. What I do know was my fate. Blackfire impressed me into slavery, selling me to the Warlords of Okaara. They in turn placed me with their slavers, the Gordanians. My...master is the one you know as Trogaar. The very one who is threatening your settlement with destruction.

"Trogaar is a brute. Might is power. Instead of servitude, he wished me make me into his personal soldier and not a typical one. He placed me in the hospitality of the Citadel's scientists and subjected me to their experiments. They were...painful."

From loving family, to slavery, to Tamaranian guinea pig. How far would she fall before her story ended?

"The experiments were successful in their intent." Raising up a hand, green energy enveloped it, glowing brightly and intensely. "No Tamaranian can do this, harnessing their life energy into a weapon to be used on other living beings. I was on a ship, being transported back to my master, when I seized my opportunity to escape. The very power I was imbued with was my means to do so. I destroyed the restraints binding me...and as I began my escape, I found myself wielding this power as it was intended."

Red Robin's gut twisted. He had a feeling where that was going. A part of him didn't want the confirmation, prayed for it. But it was obvious what she was implying.

"Did you kill someone?" Whoever asked spoke in a hushed whisper. Sounded like Garfield, to be honest.

"It was a Gordanian who arrived to apprehend me. Even now I find myself returning to that moment and…" The green energy dissipated instantly. "...yes." A swallow. "I did kill him. I make no excuses for it. Only when I had time to think about… The enormity presses on me. How does one reconcile with one's self once one has committed such an act?"

No answer was forthcoming. What could a group of teens who had no experience in taking any lives say to her? Well, unless you count their prisoner, but so far the shapeshifter had never admitted to killing anybody either. But wasn't he part of an assassination squad? So he should know, right?

"Sometimes we are placed in situations beyond our control. We do things we know we will regret. That we'll always regret. That you are feeling this way proves that you understand what you have done," Rachel spoke up, her voice soft. "That you will always have a second thought, even should you be placed in the same situation with the same circumstances. It is not weakness...to value life. Even when you have taken it."

"And it doesn't have to change the way you feel. We all have our regrets," Victor added. "None of us can ever understand how you're feeling. So what we can say may not mean anything to you. But we can't say that we wouldn't have done the same thing when the opportunity to escape from the same thing you did came up. I know that if I'm not careful, I could pop someone's head right off their bodies, I have that much strength. That's what machines do. They do what they're supposed to do, even if it breaks human limitations."

"Sometimes we don't have a choice." Cassie was the one speaking now. "Sometimes it's all out of our hands. You did what you had to do. There's no love lost between me and those Gordanians; I won't shed a tear for them, especially since they are threatening to destroy my home. That you regret killing one is more than what they deserve. That you're able to keep going in spite it tells me you are strong, Kori. I think stronger than anybody else thinks you are."

"So you managed to escape. Why Earth?" Red Robin asked. Maybe a distraction would be helpful.

"Many races are superstitious of this planet. One that is able to repel Kalanorians is not a world to underestimate," Kori answered. "I had hoped that the Gordanians' fear of this planet would keep me safe. I was wrong."

"Not necessarily," Rachel replied. "Did you not hear what this Trogaar said? He is deliberately blocking off all communication with the outside world. Why would someone do that unless he himself has been intimidated? Then there's his ultimatum. Why would he want us humans to search for you when he probably has who knows how many men...Gordanians under his command. Soldiers more than likely trained and disciplined and less likely to crumble under the threat of stress."

"What are you saying?" Cassie asked. Though her tone could have been mistaken for being accusatory, there it clear to see that she was more curious than anything.

"That the Gordanians are not fully in control. It is but an illusion of it," Rachel stated. "Did you not hear those explosions? Something like that will get someone's attention, thus they do not have a lot of time. I doubt Trogaar will wait until twenty-four hours have passed. If he gets spooked, he'll destroy the city and turn tail. We may not have as much time as we think."

"So this bad alien dude will kill us all?" Garfield piped up, his voice high pitched.

"There's nothing to stop him from doing it. Kori, what can you tell us about this guy? Would he keep his word or double-cross us?" Red Robin asked pointedly. He was picking up on what Rachel was hinting at but wanted more information first.

Unlike Cassie with Rachel earlier, Kori was genuinely confused and curious. "Trogaar is used to getting what he wants, when he wants. He...he does not deal well with uncertainty or resistance. Disobedience is rewarded only with pain."

"Okay, I get it, we're dealing with _that_ type. He sounds boring," Victor butted in. "Of all aliens to get, a freaking trope."

"I do not understand. By all rights you should be afraid of him. He is holding your home hostage to his whims," Kori said. "Yet you are mocking him. And what is a trope?"

"Earth is no stranger to people like that. They're a dime a dozen," Cassie remarked, stepping away from the stairs and drawing closer to the rest of the group. "Please tell me you two are talking about going after this guy."

Figures Cassie would catch on.

"Going after…? You cannot mean!" And now Kori had too.

"You said it yourself, we can't trust Trogaar to keep his word," the vigilante said. "The only thing we can trust is that he will destroy Jump City. And we can't be sure the people who handle this kind of stuff will get in here in time, somebody has to stop him. I don't know about the rest of you, but I think this group could take care of itself should a fight break out."

"You cannot risk your lives fighting Trogaar!" Kori protested his, standing up to her full height. That, you could say, made her the tallest person in the room.

"Do you remember what you told me?" And it was Rachel for the tag. "Back when the four of us were fighting for our lives. You didn't have to, but you fought to protect our lives. Then, you called it a debt you had to repay. That's what you told me. However you intended for me to take that, I did not consider that repaying a debt when one was not owed. Instead, you placed myself and the others in your debt. You helped us in our, my, time of need and now you are the one in need. I don't know about the others, but this is one debt I intend to repay."

"Damn straight," Cassie agreed, punching a fist into the palm of her hand.

Red Robin nodded in agreement; that was said perfectly. Summed up everything.

"I got a few new moves to try out myself," Victor remarked, "and how do you expect me to not pull you out of the fire? Rachel and Red Robin are right, we can't trust Trogaar and we owe you one."

The Tamaranian's jaw was wide open, utterly shocked at the declaration of support. "I...you...you need not do that?"

"Then who will?" Red Robin retorted. "We have both the knowledge and the abilities that could turn this all around. Let us help you."

"Yeah! Let's kick some alien butt!" Garfield cheered. Four pairs of eyes turned to look at him skeptically. One of those pairs added a little hostility. Noticing this, the green shapeshifter looked around, ears lowering slightly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You were with the group that was trying to kill us," Rachel deadpanned.

"Oh. Yeah." Green eyes lit up in remembrance. "Sorry about that. Can I still go? Please? It wouldn't hurt to have someone else watching your backs, right?"

"So you can stab them when we least expect it?" Cassie asked skeptically.

"What? No! Why would you think that? Oh right. Sorry, already forgot about that stuff. But seriously, I want to help," Garfield tried to plea.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Red Robin approached the green-skinned male and stood over him. Scrutinizing every inch of him, he continued, "You have no loyalty to us. You have reason to want to do us harm. We've held you against your will, we've prevented you from using your powers, basically you have all the reason in the world to pull a Benedict Arnold on us."

"I don't even know who that is!" Garfield cried out.

"To be fair, I don't know who that is either," Cassie said. Yep, any time to get a dig at him.

"Famous traitor, that's all you gotta know," Victor came to the rescue. "Now let me say this, I had him untied for most of the day and he didn't try and make a run for it. That said, I didn't let him out of my sights and he couldn't transform to save his life. Do with that what you will."

"Well, I for one would welcome his aid," Kori proclaimed.

Red Robin whipped his head to stare at the Tamaranian in surprise. "But you kicked his friends' asses."

"She did?" Garfield asked.

"I apologize, but they happened to be on the wrong end of the conflict," Kori apologized to the shapeshifter.

"Apology accepted?" Garfield didn't look like he knew what to say to that so said the first thing that came to mind. Kinda an open book with him.

"Are you sure about this?" Rachel asked. "You could be putting us all in danger, and yourself as well."

"I have participated in many coups, Rachel. I know the value of have many eyes to observe your back," Kori replied. "And since I have not seen these shape-changing abilities, I know not what he is fully capable of. That you prevent him from using them tells me that such talent would be valuable in a battle."

"Well, it's her butt on the line," Victor pointed out. "If that's her decision, I'll support it. Besides, we don't know how much time we really have. Every second we waste talking about it is another second this city is closer to being blown sky high. We gotta decide what we're going to do and then do it ASAP."

When you were right, you were right, and Victor was right on the money. They were wasting time, even if it was on something that was important as a little changeling's loyalty.

"Tin head's got a point. If Kori says to let him come, we can let him tag along, but the second he tries anything, I will pound him so hard his grandparents will feel it," Cassie agreed and threatened.

"You know, that doesn't sound too bad," Garfield remarked, tilting his head while his eyes glazed over.

Cassie loomed over the back of the couch and held her fist in front of his face. "Not that kind of pounding," she growled angrily into his ear.

"Eep!" Garfield shrank away from the blonde, pushing himself as close to the couch's armrest as he could.

"It seems like Wonder Girl over there has it under control," Rachel commented dryly.

"And quit calling me that!" Cassie turned her glare at the cloak-wearing girl.

"Would you prefer I use your real name in front of him?"

A pause. "At least come up with a better name," the blonde replied grudgingly.

In the interest in saving time and preventing them from going off the rails, Red Robin decided to bring this to a close. "So we're going out and we're going to take down an alien warlord and stop him from taking back Kori and blowing up Jump City. I think we'll be able to do that."

"One problem, Boy Blunder. Do you really think it'll be as easy as walking up to the Gordanians and telling them to let us on their ship so we can assault them?" Rachel stated.

That was a very good point. Only an idiot would believe something like that and these invaders were anything but stupid. Superstitious, yes. And superstition weakened resolve, especially when one had to confront it. Those aliens had to be stressed out beyond belief and wouldn't put too much thought when presented with the right kind of distraction.

"I actually had a thought or two about that," the vigilante replied, lips curving into a smirk.

* * *

The hum in her head was more manageable. Using her geokinesis has so far paid off as a solution for that particular problem. That meant that for the time being, Terra could focus on the mission at hand and find Gar.

She could still remember the unbridled rage Brother Blood had expressed as he threw Warblade around like a ragdoll. She had never seen him like that before, yet it served as a reminder why she wanted to leave. It figured Blood was up to something, and thanks to that rant, she had a better idea of what it was.

Which didn't mean much. What key did Gar have that Blood wanted and what was the Red? It didn't make any sense to her. However, it was a prompt for her to try and find Gar first so that she could warn him away. He may be loyal beyond all reason, but whatever Blood wanted with the green kid, Terra was not sure it was a good thing for him. Or her.

It was a good thing, then, that she was officially part of the Ravagers. The opportunity to openly search for the only person she considered an...ally was placed in her hands, and she was always the eternal opportunist.

It was almost a shame that she could only move rock and boulders and not much else. Being able to sense people on the Earth's surface was looking like a very useful ability right about now. Instead, good old fashion searching was the go to strategy.

But hey, she could count herself lucky that Windstorm couldn't detect people through the wind. All that asshole knew to do was tear things apart. Very useless when you're trying to find someone.

There was a crackle from her side, and the blonde girl pulled out the walkie-talkie that had been handed to her. It had been determined that splitting up and searching the city was the best, and only, course of action they could take. That strategy required being in contact with everyone else, so they had these stupid things. Now a telepath was looking good.

" _Has anybody found anything yet?_ " Warblade's pissed off voice filtered through the radio device's speaker. A bunch of noes and negatives were his answers. " _Christ, how hard is it to find someone who's green?_ "

Harder than it looked. Currently, Terra was standing on a building next to the basketball court where she had last seen Gar. It was obvious that something had gone on down there as the pavement was cracked and torn apart. Yellow police tape fenced it off as it fluttered lightly in the cool breeze.

Another crackle. " _How do we know the brat is still alive?_ " That would be Windstorm, and that question pissed her off for some reason.

" _If Brother Blood says he's alive, he's fucking alive_ ," Warblade growled through the walkie-talkie.

" _But does it make any sense to continue looking? Has nobody seen the giant alien ship floating by the beach?_ " Windstorm complained.

His complaint wasn't without merit. There was indeed an alien spacecraft hovering off the coast. And, of course, their would-be alien overlord had made his move. The city was his, no one could leave, find me some orange alien lady, blah, blah, blah. It sounded a lot like what the Ravagers were doing, except with a guy who was green.

When would things stop being crazy?

And speaking of crazy? The rest of the city was kinda tearing itself apart as normal people searched desperately for this orange alien that the alien overlord wanted. That was a big reason why she was keeping to the rooftops. There was no way she was getting involved with that shit down there.

But on the bright side, if Gar was still in the city, he wouldn't be leaving it unless he was trying to get himself killed. As "close" as they were, she wasn't sure that Gar didn't have a death wish.

" _Warblade, I have found him_."

What? Oh, that was Wanderer. And wait, had she said she had found Gar? Aw, shit.

" _Where is he?_ " Warblade demanded.

" _He is accompanying our targets._ " Targets? Oh, these people Blood had wanted them to kill. Why was he with them? " _They are heading towards the alien spacecraft._ " Okay, hold on a second, _what_?!

" _He's what?_ " Warblade was of the same mind as her, and hadn't she mentioned to hold on a second?

" _I am following them. What are your orders?_ " Wanderer added.

" _Oh, yes, what are your orders, oh glorious leader?_ " Phobia piped up mockingly.

" _Shut up you bitch. Everyone, head for the spaceship. If that's where green boy is heading, that's where we're going_ ," Warblade snapped. " _Now get your asses over there_."

Why in hell was Gar heading towards that alien spaceship? Was he suicidal? Or...oh Christ, should have known. While everyone under the Ravagers knew what they were, which was Blood's private army of killers, Gar was still naive to it. Didn't think there was anything wrong with it even though he couldn't handle killing someone himself. He put way too much stock in hero worship and now it seemed like he was trying to be a hero himself.

This just got even more complicated.

* * *

"Red, this plan of yours is stupid. I know I've said it before, but I have to say it again. I have never heard of such a stupid thing before."

Cassie was still on that and had been since they left the Sandsmark homestead. Red Robin was really getting annoyed at this point. Yes, there were parts of it that weren't good, but based on time constraints and circumstances, it was the best he could come up with. He wasn't the planner, hadn't been that for the Batclan. Investigation and general morale booster, that's what he had been. There was a time he tried being the computer guy, but Barbara would always blow him out of the water.

But hey, Rachel had been the one to say that this plan was the best of all their options. She had also said that all their options were bad anyway, but that was beside the point! And Kori! She agreed to and was willing to accept the risk of it. Was the resident Tamaranian uneasy about it? Yes, she was. Yet, she agreed to go ahead with it anyway.

Victor just shrugged his shoulders. Garfield was brimming with energy and wanted to do something, no matter what it was. Cassie, of course, was still objecting to it, and he had a feeling that she was only complaining about it to annoy him.

It was working.

Like he had ever since they had left, the vigilante had ignored her. It didn't stop him from clenching his teeth, but he refused to be baited. Didn't make it any easier, though, with each following comment.

To try and better ignore her, he kept his attention on both keeping himself up in the air with his cape and an eye on the streets below where he could see Jump City citizens tearing the city apart. Some were genuinely looking for their Tamaranian friend; half who were taking care not to make too much of a mess and the other half not caring at all so long as they could find her. Then there were the looters. Enough said. Even when you were on the brink of annihilation, at least you would be able to die with a fancy flat-screen TV.

Definitely did not want to fall down there.

Dead ahead (bad choice of words there), Trogaar's ship hovered ominously. Large and oblong, the front had a large, half-spherical protrusion with a circular hole in the middle of it. Obviously a weapon of sort. Around it were three cylinder/barrel-shaped extensions that formed a triangle with their placements around the half-spherical bulge. That was just the face of the ship and all that could be seen from their angle.

And the plan was to board that ship. That was where Red Robin's plan came in.

As time ticked away and the distance between the group of teens and the alien spacecraft closed, doubts grew as certainty diminished. They were superheroes. None of them could be classed with the Justice League. What the hell were they thinking hoping to fight off this invasion? All they had were their roughly-formed fighting capabilities, some interesting powers, a bad-ass alien, and that infectious, borderline delusional belief of youthful immortality.

In layman's terms, all they had were balls.

Up ahead, the vigilante spotted a smaller ship, probably some kind of scout ship. Like the mothership, it too hovered in the air like it was watching everything fall to pieces. That was their ticket in.

"You're sure you're okay with this?" he shouted over to Kori. If there were any doubts, now was the time to voice them. After this was the point-of-no-return.

"This is what needs to be done," the Tamaranian answered, her voice devoid of all feeling.

She was using that green energy of hers to keep herself up in the air. It was hardly noticeable as it was an extremely thin layer of that energy, though occasionally you would see glimmers of the color flash around her. Otherwise, she was just another person who knew how to fly. Like Cassie for some reason. At least with Rachel, she was using a black, magical disc to fly herself around. It large enough to carry both Victor and Garfield with her, the former stoic and the other practically bouncing with unspent energy.

"Land!" he called out and angled himself downward to the nearest building. They were almost at the moment of truth and a morale boost couldn't hurt, right?

Using a rooftop entrance to block themselves from the sight of the scout ship, Red Robin held his little powwow meeting. "Everybody knows what they need to do?"

"Of course. I still say it's a stupid plan," Cassie said.

"And yet you've given no alternative," Rachel pointed out. The dark purple cloak the girl wore had been altered slightly, pulled back along her shoulders with some feather-like protrusions somehow growing out of it. For the longest time, she had used the cloak to shield most of her body, and the fact she wore what looked like a leotard, purple in color, with a belt of red disc-shaped gems gave ample reason why that was. It was very...form-fitting.

With the hood up and shadowing her face, Rachel took on a very supernatural look that she made work somehow. This was in contrast to Cassie's gold and red ensemble. For the vigilante, the former was more eye-catching than the latter if only because he was more desensitized to the blonde's appearance now.

"I suggested hacking into their mainframe," Victor stated.

"And we said you were too unpracticed. You've only recently begun to explore all your capabilities. To pit you against alien software would be too dangerous for you," Rachel refuted so Red Robin didn't have to.

"And asking Kori to put herself out there, pretending to turn herself in isn't too dangerous for her," Victor retorted. "Oh no, she has to wait for us to knock out her slavers. That's totally safer."

"It's not like we have better options. We need the element of surprise for as long as we can," Red Robin replied. "And Kori herself has agreed to do it. I don't want her doing it either, but she's the only one these Gordanians will respond to."

"I am extremely discomforted but Red Robin speaks true," the Tamaranian added. Though she did not voice her unease, it was plain to see with her body language. She was holding one of her upper arms with a hand, her shoulders slumped, and her eyes lowered.

"We need to be fast and make sure none of those Gordanians alert Trogaar. Once we're face to face with him, we can be as noisy as we want," the vigilante finished.

A moment of silence fell over them. "I still say it's a horrible idea," Cassie stated.

"Objection noted. Are you ready, Kori?" Red Robin turned to the Tamaranian who had saved him twice already.

"No time as the right now," the orange-skinned alien replied.

Butchering of "no time like the present" aside, Kori gave no chance for other objections as she slipped out of hiding, heading directly for the scout ship.

"She just went out there," Red Robin said dumbly. "We're...we're not in position yet. Shit. Rachel, Garfield, circle around. Cas—Wonder Girl, go for a flank. Cyborg, you're with me. No time to talk, just move!"

Hopefully this was not going to be a Leeroy Jenkins situation.

At least, Rachel and Cassie were quick to act. While the armored blond went to the right, Rachel sealed herself and the shapeshifter in a ball of black and melted down into the roof. Weird.

Odd clings and clangs sounded beside the vigilante, and a quick look revealed that Victor had morphed an arm into a cannon of sorts. Well, looks like they were as prepared as they would ever be. Pulling out a couple throwing discs, both non-explosive, Red Robin peeked around their cover, waiting for their moment to arrive.

He watched as Kori landed on another rooftop, this one directly in front of the scout ship. She held up her arms in the classic sign of surrender. Moment of truth, what was going to happen? A couple minutes passed by, the waiting becoming worse and worse. Would the bait be taken? Was everybody in position? The suspense was going to kill the masked teen at this rate.

Without warning, the small alien ship lowered itself, drawing closer to the building Kori was standing on. A panel on the ship's underbelly lowered, a smooth incline that was obviously a walkway touched down on the rooftop. Time was slowing down and slowed further as two Gordanians in black alien armor descended from the ship.

Black, wing-like extension grew out from the back of the armor. Muscular upper arms revealing blue-green skin were bare, visible from the thick shoulder guards and the gauntlets covering the lower arms. Tails slithered behind them, thick and tough-looking. Both the aliens held long, rod-shaped weapons, each wield similarly to a human with a rifle. Most likely had the same functions too.

"Got'um in my sights," Victor said softly.

"Wait for them to get closer," Red Robin told him just as softly as he tensed the muscles in his arms.

Now, Kori was one of the taller members of this ragtag group. That said, the Gordanians were even larger, at least by two or three feet. They came to a stop in front of the Tamaranian and began motioning with their weapons. Though he was unable to see her face, the vigilante observed as Kori nodded her head stoically, giving affirmation to an unheard order directed towards her.

"Now," he hissed as he darted out of cover.

Simultaneously, a rope launched itself out of nowhere and lassoed one of the rod-shaped weapons, tugging its aim away from Kori. The Gordanian whose weapon had been grabbed turned his head in the direction of the rope and was met with an armored fist of the face. The force of the blow was enough to throw the large alien back and into his partner, causing the pair to stumble to a side.

Behind all this, two figures slipped in and up into the ship unnoticed.

Shoving his partner aside, the still-armed Gordanian raised his weapon up and prepared to fire. A whirling disc took care of that, knocking the long rod out of large, blue-green hands and sending it clattering to the rooftop. Barely a second later, while the alien was attempting to nurse his hand, a beam of energy slammed into him and carried him off the rooftop to slam into a neighboring building.

Pausing, Red Robin looked over at Victor who looked just as surprised as him. "Damn, didn't know it would be that powerful," the cyborg remarked.

With a roar, the other Gordanian interrupted the stupor, spinning around and taking an aggressive stance. Cassie was on him, throwing punch after punch and landing hits against the gauntleted arms. The alien blocked, reading the armored blonde and predicting her attacks. He backed up like a fighter would, mindful of the building's edge.

Figuring he'd lend a helping hand, Red Robin prepared to aim another disc, hesitating when due to her barrage of attacks, Cassie inadvertently moved into his line of fire. Damn, couldn't get a clear shot. If she would only—hold up. The Gordanian was moving closer and closer to his fallen weapon. The vigilante was too far away to make out if it was accidentally or on purpose, but the one thing he did know was that he didn't want that rod being picked up.

After blocking a particularly nasty blow, the Gordanian went on the offensive. Bringing an arm up, he swiped at Cassie, knocking her arm to a side, then followed up with a blow to her stomach. Moving smoothly, the Gordanian slammed a kick into the armored girl's side and sent her skidding away.

Without missing a beat, the large alien spun around and crouched down, reaching for his fallen weapon. Shit, he had been moving towards it on purpose. Just as he was raising an arm to try and knock the firearm away from its owner, a foot rammed down onto of it, preventing the Gordanian from picking it up.

Raising his head up, the alien scout looked to find Kori towering above him. A vicious punch to the face snapped the head to a side, a second blow snapping it in the other direction. Bringing her hands together, Kori raised them both up and jackhammered them onto of the Gordanian's head, smashing it into the rooftop and ending the scuffle.

Giving a huff, Kori remarked, "That felt most pleasurable."

"Sure he's out? I'm more than willing to make sure," Cassie growled, cracking her knuckles as she approached.

A sharp whistle directed attention towards the ship. Standing on the walkway was none other than Garfield in all his tight, black shorts glory. "Hey, we got the ship! What do you want us to do with the guys in here?"

Activating his cape long enough to glide over, Red Robin approached his comrades in a business-like manner. "We'll need to restrain them long enough that they won't bother us or alert anyone else that we've hijacked the ship."

"Bet they have something on board?" Victor quipped as he joined them.

"I'll go check!" Garfield volunteered as he scurried back on board.

Though he wasn't the center of attention, the vigilante had nodded his head in agreement, then turned to the Tamaranian. "How are you holding up?"

"I am not sure what you mean by the 'holding up.' Do you mean the air?" Kori asked in reply.

"How are you doing?" Red Robin corrected.

"Most well, thank you."

"Alright, part one is done. Now to part two," he announced, punching a fist into the palm of his hand.

* * *

"What are they doing?" Windstorm wondered as they watched the group of targets battling it out with a couple of extraterrestrials.

"It appears that they are instigating a strike on our alien invaders," Wanderer observed, her arms crossed beneath her bosom.

"Why would they do that?" Warblade asked to himself. The small ragtag group that happened to have the missing changeling with them were unloading more of those aliens off the ship and dumping them on the building's roof. The Ravager leader had yet to figure out what they were up to.

"Perhaps they seek the ship? Who knows what they would be able to get for it should they sell it," Phobia remarked.

A good point, but that didn't fit the usual M.O. of goody-two-shoes. Admittedly, Warblade knew nothing about these kids other than Brother Blood wanted them dead and the green shapeshifter retrieved. He wasn't the type of guy who asked a lot of questions. The ones he did consisted of "who do you want me to kill?" and "where do I find them?"

"Should we hit them now?" Windstorm asked. "I don't think we'll get a better chance."

That was another good point. They could make up for past mistakes and bring back some heads along with their prize. It was too good to be true.

"Windstorm's got the right idea. Let's take them out. No one hurt the green kid," Warblade announced as he readied himself for a quick strike.

"Fuck yeah!" Windstorm agreed as wind began to move about him.

By that time, the last of the targets had finished up with unloading the aliens and had reentered the ship. Nice, putting themselves in a small space. Like a can of sardines just waiting to be open.

Warblade began to his order to attack, "Let's—" when the ship entrance shut and the spacecraft moved away from the building. What the?! Craning his head back, the masked leader of the Ravagers scowled as the small spaceship rose higher and higher into the air. What the hell did those little bastards think they were doing?

Then the alien ship began flying over to the larger mothership, barely making any noise as it moved. That left the group of Ravagers stumped, their assault ruined before it could begin.

"So what now, glorious leader?" Phobia snarked.

Growling, Warblade spun on his heel, immediately scanning the skies. "We find our own ship, that's what. We're not about to let them get away from us this time."

"And how do you suppose we'll get one?" Phobia demanded.

Though his mask hid his face, it didn't stop him from smirking. "Well, I guess we'll find out what aliens are afraid of."


	19. Divide and Conquer

Author's Note: Sorry about skipping Monday guys, but that was a last minute call. Though you all could use your time with family and all, you know, more wisely than coming here. To give a heads up, no update next Monday, but there will be one next Friday and after that we resume the usual schedule of every Monday and Friday until the story is done. Thanks for putting up with this and enjoy.

Divide and Conquer

Another surprise from their Tamaranian friend was that she could fly Gordanian spacecraft. So very convenient, that, especially to all the humans on board who could not read any of the written symbols that made up the alien language.

So yeah, no complaining here.

As the large mothership grew larger the closer they approached it, the more tense it became within the tiny ship. While the front of Trogaar's ship had been huge, they hadn't realized how long it was. And it was long. Maybe not a mile long, but still bigger than anything humanity had ever come up with.

"Boarding a mothership, this is awesome!" Garfield whispered loudly, apparently the only one really excited about this.

"Mothership?" Kori had asked.

"I think he means like the main command ship. The one where all the important generals and such make decisions and look over invasions," Victor tried to clarify, though now that Red Robin thought about it, a mothership was not very easy to describe.

However, Kori understood. "I see. This is not a 'mothership.' Those are much bigger. This is but a mere freighter—I believe that's the term in your language. In-between sized—not very big or small."

Oh, so it was a medium-sized ship. That made this so much better. Not really.

"Whatever, size doesn't matter. We're gonna take it down anyway. Right?" Cassie huffed.

Not too sure about that theory, but whatever. The young vigilante remained quiet as their stolen ship arrived at a docking bay. That was the right term for it, right? Who knew what terminology these Gordanians used.

As their ship crossed the threshold, reaching a loading area, Red Robin had the distinct feeling of being in a Star Wars movie. Never thought that would ever happen. Alright, time for a quick motivational speech before they went out to risk their lives for a city of people.

"We need to be quick, take out everybody you see, and don't let any of them raise an alarm. We need to keep the element of surprise as long as possible. We can't afford to let Trogaar get trigger-happy and blow up the city," the vigilante stated, summing up the rest of his plan. "Kori, you know where the bridge or the command deck or center is, right?"

"I do," Kori confirmed.

"You'll lead us there, then. The controls for whatever weapon he's going to use is located there, right?"

"Among many others, yes."

Not even going to go into what she meant. The implications were a bit horrifying.

The ship shuddered as it came to a stop. Nearby, you could hear a soft hiss. Stereotypical sounds of a spaceship docking. Had to assume it was safe to disembark. But was it safe? Through the front window, he could see Gordanians milling around the docking bay, doing all sorts of menial tasks. It was difficult to get an accurate number, especially since there was only a small part of the bay in view.

Well, nothing for it. An old fashion blitzkrieg rush would have to do. "This is it, guys. We only get one shot, so let's make it a good one. Take them all out as quickly as possible."

"Now you're repeating yourself," Cassie remarked as she moved towards the exit.

Out of all of them, Koriand'r was the most nervous. While her companions were all young and full of spirit, only she really knew what they were up against. The Gordanians were not synonymous for slavers for no reason. Their battle prowess was enough to fight Thanagarians to a stalemate.

In fact, the rivalry between the two species was so great that each one's names were slurs to the other. For a Gordanian, to call one a Thanagarian was the gravest of insults. When Trogaar had first lain his hand on her, he had remarked that she might be useful for ending the mentioned stalemate with his hated rival.

So why were these youths so confident? Perhaps ignorance was the shield they carried to this battle. While the scouts had been dealt with swiftly, it was not scouts outside this ship that they would contend with. Fully trained soldiers with more battle experience than the lot of them combined.

For a second, the Tamaranian considered undocking the ship and escaping. It would save herself and these young lives. However, it would doom their city to destruction. The urge to withdraw was great, almost too great, but was conquered. There was nowhere for her to go, even if such an escape was possible.

Either she stayed and fought here to end this pursuit or continued running and never stopping.

Koriand'r stood up from the pilot's seat and went to join the rest of the group. The ship's entrance and exit was opening, Cassie the most eager to leap forward into the unknown. Hoping to provide them cover, even if it was for a moment, the Tamaranian made her way to the front, taking the frontal position and allowing herself to be the first seen should any Gordanian look their way.

Tensing the muscles in her legs, the Tamaranian female allowed her life energy to flow into her hands and ball up on her palms. In an instant, she shot out of the ship, an orange blur that once it reached some distance away began to fire off shot burst of green energy as quickly as possible. Unaware or surprised Gordanians were struck and sent backwards, rendering them vulnerable to the second wave of attack from the others.

Young Cassie was tackling two soldiers with her arms slamming into their necks and forcing them to the floor. Victor, or Cyborg as little Gar was calling him, was firing short blasts from his altered arm, knocking out any who were hit. And Gar was slipping around quickly in some serpentine from, shifting into a larger hairy creature with curved horns on its head and ramming into the gut of a Gordanian not quick enough to move out of the way.

As predicted, the soldiers in the docking bay were quick to respond, swarming towards them in great numbers and with their weapons ready to fire. Plasma glowed at the ends of the oblong weaponry, but shots were not fired as many of them were covered in a black energy that yanked them out of large hand and proceeded to attack by using the instruments of death as clubs against their wielders.

Koriand'r resumed her attack, keeping herself suspended in the air as she punched a nearby Gordanian in the face and followed up with a second blow to the torso. As the soldier bent over, she raised her hands over him, fingers intertwined, and jackhammered him into the floor, and then moved on to the next one.

There was a sense of urgency to move fast. No time to stop. Moving at speeds she had not attempted before, the Tamarian fired a bolt of energy to disarm a soldier attempting to intercept her path, and followed that with an incapacitating blow. She held none of her strength back and paid no attention as the Gordanian was propelled through the air and into a small group of his comrades.

A small object detonated among the group, filling the air with a strange gas that surroundeded them. Their cries of surprise allowed the gas to enter their bodies and start a coughing fit. Taking advantage of their distraction, she fired several bolts of life energy to knock them out, careful not to make them too powerful.

The memory of that Gordanian she had murdered continued to flash in her head, despite her attempts to ignore it.

A small throwing projectile whizzed by her head, and struck a Gordanian who was charging towards her in the face. Halting her rush around the bay, she spun her body and landed a devastating kick to the helmed head, ending the threat the vile alien embodied before it could manifest.

In the corner of her eye, she could see two Gordanians attempting to flee. Recalling that the plan was for none of them to raise an alert, Koriand'r pursued them. As they were reaching an exit, she caught up to them, grabbing each by the sides of their heads and bringing both to slam against the other with a loud clang.

No time to savor the moment. Must keep moving. She ducked under a plasma blast and returned one of her own. Her shot removed the weapon that had fired at her and when the Gordanian in question moved to retrieve it, the Tamaranian tackled him from behind, a hand gripping the back of the foul alien's head. Applying strength, she used the combination of her tackle and gravity to slam his head on the metal floor, knocking him out.

Rolling off her opponent and onto her feet, Koriand'r sought out a new one.

* * *

Victor was starting to get the hang of this. With short, controlled burst of energy—where it came from, he didn't think about it—he was able to break apart any formations these ugly aliens tried to form. No need to worry about his six, Red Robin was covering that, throwing who knew how many of those throwing star things of his as either distractions or to hurt.

Damn, this place was huge. Now, he knew that the plan was not to let any of these Gordanian guys alert anyone, but that didn't look very likely to the cyborg teen. Someone had to have raised the alarm by now.

Oh, and over there he could see a large group of these invaders charging in. Yep, everyone knew they were here now.

"I think our cover's blown!" he shouted over his shoulder.

He could have sworn there was a swear said behind him, the kind little kids shouldn't hear.

"Does your mom know you know that word?" he called playfully, then fired another blast from his arm cannon.

"Change of plans! Let's get out of here and somewhere else. Trogaar most likely knows we're—hold on a second." Nothing from the shorter teen for a moment as he threw a smoke bomb. A whirling disk was thrown where it blew up in the faces of a couple Gordanians. Then, "Okay, he probably knows we're here so we need to find that command room. Can you clear the way?"

"Yeah, I think I can do that," Victor chuckled to himself. Morphing his arm cannon back into, well, an arm, the robotic teen bent his legs, falling into a familiar crouch. Then, like the football player he had once been, he charged forward like an unstoppable titanium train. Any alien that was unlucky enough to be in his way was knocked to a side or trampled over, didn't really matter which it was.

From the corner of his human eye, he could see some of those energy-blasting guns being aimed at him. The barrels were lighting up, but at the last second, a blackness covered them. The weapons detonated on themselves, injuring the aliens holding them and giving a reminder to the cybernetic teen that this wasn't going to be like last time.

He had a few buddies of his own backing him up this time.

In the background, he could hear Red Robin yelling out to the others, but the actual words escaped him. The pounding of his feet against the metal floor held more meaning to him. Up ahead, he could see an opened door ripe for the taking. Or it was for a second; someone had gotten the bright idea to try and close it. Not on his watch.

Quickening his pace as much as his cybernetic body would allow, he threw out a hand to grab onto the sliding door and shove his body into the shirking gap. Utilizing the strength in his robotic arms, he pushed back against the door's mechanisms stopping it as a whine from the gears complained about it.

Then he directed more power into those arms and pushed the door back, opening their exit even more. A grunt slipped out of him, a surprising reminder of his humanity in this display of strength.

One after another, the others slip over or under him. Let him just say spotting a green snake slither beneath him gave him a bit of the heebie jeebies—something he had in common with Indiana Jones. Everyone else, though, seemed to prefer flying or leap frogging over his back. Okay, by his count, that should be all of them.

Getting out of the doorway, he allowed the exit's door to slide shut, blocking them from sight of a bunch of angry aliens.

"Well that was fun," the armor-wearing crazy girl snarked. "What's next?"

"We're not out of it yet. We find the command center or whatever it's called," Red Robin snapped back. "Kori, do you know the layout of this ship?"

"Not particularly," the Tamaranian asskicker answered with a shrug of her shoulders. "I do believe it should be towards the front of the ship and several floors up. We will need to find one of the elevation shafts."

"Can you find one?" the masked vigilante demanded.

"It would make sense to have one close by. If the layout of this ship is similar to others ones I have been on, then it will not be far."

"Alright, take point," Red Robin said.

"Very well. Where shall I take this point?" Kori asked.

"I mean, lead us to the elevator...elevation shaft," Red Robin corrected himself.

"Apologies. Follow me." And thus their alien guide was dashing down the hallway without looking back at them.

"You might want to drop all slang until this is over," Victor recommended to the shorter teen. "As hard as that'll be," he muttered to himself as he followed after.

* * *

As various soldiers picked themselves up or lied on the floor in various states of consciousness, others were making their way towards where they had last seen the intruders go. It was bad enough they had to be on this forsaken planet in the first place. It would be worse if the local dominant species caused irreparable damage to their only way home.

How they had got on, nobody could say, and it went without saying that none wanted the commander to hear about this. However, Trogaar would have to be informed. How else would they be able to coordinate their forces to eliminate these menaces?

With their attentions directed elsewhere, none paid any attention to a second scout ship attempting to dock. The key word being attempt. Instead of going through the standard docking protocols, the scout ship crashed through and into the actual loading dock, crushing any Gordanian unlucky enough to be in its way.

Only the far wall had the strength and sturdiness to withstand the space-faring vessel's speed and momentum. With a loud boom, it settled where it lay, fires and smoke left in its wake. Of the survivors, they eyed the ship warily, their plasma-based weapons at the ready. First intruders and now this? What could be next?

The small ship's loading ramp fell open as if it's lowering mechanisms had given out. Metal bounced against metal, a multitude of rod-shaped rifles were aimed at it.

Despite this readiness to confront whatever might be coming out, none were prepared for the funnel of air that roared out and threw back everyone in the immediate vicinity. While all eyes were on this bizarre weather phenomena, they were not on the lithe figure that darted out with impressive speed and began to slash and gash through the nearest soldiers. A four-armed goliath barreled out next, charging like a Thanagarian tank, and trampling or knocking away anyone in its path.

As more intruders swarmed out, the first one with its glowing face roared, "You know what to do, Ravagers! Kill anyone that gets in your way! Ravage the shit out of them!"

* * *

Initially, the run down the hallway was uneventful. Much preferable for Rachel. The emotions of anger and bloodlust back at the docking bay was almost overwhelming for her. She could argue that this was a new situation for her and no amount of preparations would have readied her for this assault.

It was no excuse. She needed to keep a reign on her own anger and rage lest she become a danger not just to these alien invaders but to the comrades whom she found herself in the company of.

It seemed during her travels she had somehow picked up some kind of code of honor. Now she was wishing she hadn't. Should have accepted Koriand'r's declaration of paying back a debt that she didn't actually owe in the first place.

As soon as they reached the first corner and were making a turn, they came across the latest obstacle in their mission to save the city. A small group of reinforcements, at least six from initial count were running in their direction. That they were slowing down meant that they too were surprised at coming across them.

Unlike the ragtag group of teens, the Gordanians were quicker to recover. Fortunately for the teens, she was just as quick. A hastily-made, black shield granted them cover as the first energy blasts were fired at them.

Her brow furrowing, Rachel concentrated harder and by extension strengthened the shield so that it could withstand the barrage of energy blasts. A little assertion of will forced the shield forward and into the group of Gordanians, pressing them back rapidly and clearing the way ahead. She didn't stop pushing them back onto she crushed them against a far wall.

Shouts from behind alert her to another group coming up behind them. There were four of them, but that was moot since they were ready to fire at will. A small green blur rushed past her, her eyes darting towards it instinctively. It was a bird of some sort, a falcon perhaps, and why she was focusing on that of all things in this dangerous situation was beyond her.

It was a good thing she didn't have to answer that as the bird shifted into a bull and rammed into the alien soldiers, knocking them about like bowling pins before a single shot was fired. Cassie and Victor were on them immediately, ensuring they were all unconscious so the threat was neutralized.

"This way!" Koriand'r called from ahead, gesturing for them to hurry after her.

Allowing her magical energies to keep her hovering in the air, Rachel followed after, Red Robin at her side. The heavy footsteps of metal and hooves brought up the rear as they turned another corner. By the time they caught up with their Tamaranian ally, said Tamaranian was firing off a green bolt of her unique energy to incapacitate a lone Gordanian.

Looking over her shoulder at them, Koriand'r gestured to her left where a large yet small room resided. Must be the elevation shaft mentioned earlier. As Rachel took a spot in the metal chamber, she could see Koriand'r fire a few more of those green balls of energy while Victor was shooting several blasts of his own from that arm cannon of his. Both ducked into the small room as return fire filled the hallway, the Tamaranian quickly closing the doors.

"So far so good," Red Robin commented.

"Don't count your chickens yet. We're not even close to our objective," Rachel pointed out. "Who knows how many soldiers stand between us and the bridge?"

"And how many will be at our backs once we reach it," Cassie pointed out.

"Sounds like we'll need a distraction, someone to cause trouble and lead any reinforcements away," Red Robin remarked.

"That sounds like an even dumber idea than the one we're doing right now," Victor deadpanned.

"I'm all ears if anybody has anything better," the teen vigilante snapped back. "I know things aren't working out as I had hoped, but I'm not about to turn back just because everything's against us. We're gonna die even if we don't do anything. If I have to die, it'll be fighting. Even if I don't reach the bridge, if it can buy someone time to get there—"

"Now you're talking about being a martyr," Rachel interrupted. "Don't. It's way too hyped up than it's worth. While it does sound stupid, it's probably the best shot we have, and since no one else will volunteer, I'll try to lead any and all reinforcements away."

"By yourself?" Victor exclaimed, shock painted on his face.

"I'll come too!" Garfield volunteered.

"You should stay with the rest, I'll be able to handle myself," Rachel denied coolly.

"But who will watch your back? We had those guys earlier show up," the green shapeshifter pointed out. "What if someone gets the drop on you?"

Out of all of them, why was the green kid making the most intellectual sense? "Trust me, it would be better to have as many people reach the bridge to neutralize Trogaar. I will be fine."

"Screw that, the Grass Stain is right," Victor retorted. Raising his eyes up to the ceiling as if he himself was about to martyr himself, he added, "I'll come with. Make sure nobody sneaks up on you."

"Vi—Cyborg, you do not need to do that," she tried to deny the offer of assistance once again.

"It does make sense to divide our forces," Koriand'r piped up. "If nothing else, it should serve to distract Trogaar and the more that group together, the more damage will be caused and the more attention will be drawn."

"Right!" Garfield agreed, punching a fist into his hand.

"Rachel and...Cyborg, you two go on and make a distraction," Red Robin spoke up, handing out instructions.

"I want to go too!" Garfield protested being left out.

The protest fell on deaf ears. "The rest of us will head to the bridge and take it out—I mean, shut it down." Nice save, because their resident Tamaranian looked like she was about to comment on that. "Everybody know what to do?"

There was a bunch of nods, some more reluctant than others. For making this up as they went, it was the best they could do. The doors to their elevator opened, revealing a clear hallway. It wouldn't remain open for long, so they needed to get to work.

"Alright, people, this it is," Red Robin declared.

"Talk finished, let's do this!" Garfield added as he shifted into a rhinoceros, his girth shoving everyone towards the walls of the elevator unintentionally. Much to their surprise, the green rhino took off, stampeding down the nearest hallway and giving the most peculiar of war cries. "LEEROOOOOOOOY JENKIIIIIIIIINSSSS!"

There was a heartbeat's worth of silence. "Oh my god, he just ran in," Red Robin commented, stumped. Then, as if the enormity of the situation hit him, "Oh jeez, stick to the plan people! Kori, lead the way, Rachel, Victor, follow him! Let's go!"

And this was the reason why she had wanted to go it alone.

* * *

It felt as if the very ship itself was shaking under his, um, feet.

That goth chick thought that she could handle these guys by herself. And what about him? He had offered to help, but she didn't want any. Yet when Cyborg had offered, no resistance. Just let him come. And then that Red Robin guy flat out ignored him!

Well, he would show them what he was capable of. He did once fight the Wonder Chick and Red Robin at the same time! This was just a bunch of aliens with laser rifles. They needed to distract these guys and there was nobody who was as good at distraction as Garfield.

Besides, what attracted more attention than a charging rhino? Those alien dudes were popping out, looking around for what was...uh…what was distracting them! That's right, they looking for what was distracting them and pow! Bam! Wham! He was bowling over and knocking them out of the way.

Thing about being a charging rhino was that slowing down took a bit of time and due to how wide he was, making turns was a bit tricky. So when a corner came up in which the only way to go was left, yeah, that was a problem.

Almost running into the wall, he shifted into a cheetah, using his speed and reflexes to jump and bounce off the wall, making the turn like it was nothing. Okay, time for something else to get some attention here. How about an elephant—okay, head was scraping against the ceiling—and back to rhino. Why change if it ain't broken?

Up ahead, those evil alien guys were entering this new hallway, but unlike the others they were ready to start shooting at him from the get go. Hmm, needed to be something fast and small. Time to go back to the peregrine falcon again? Those guys were small and fast. Plus, he was already charging so he had some speed already.

To his surprise, this inky black stuff formed right in front of him—oh hey, he knew what that was! It was that weird mojo stuff that Rachel girl flung around. Like, she used it to attack or protect herself. Now he had an idea.

Putting on more speed, Garfield barreled down the hallway even as the evil alien dudes were firing those cool as shit laser guns of theirs. Thanks to the black mojo shield, those lasers bounced away without touching him, making the shapeshifter want to laugh as he plowed right through them.

Okay, time for them brakes! That shield may have been in front of him, but as Terra had drilled into him before, you needed to watch your six and he wasn't sure if someone else was doing that for him. Ever tried stopping something as large as a rhino when it was moving at top speed? Not as easy as you thought. A lot of skidding and shoving with thick rhino feet against, what, a thousand pounds of rhino bulk? Gonna take a minute.

By the time he had stopped and was looking over his green rhino shoulder, he saw Cyborg take out anyone who hadn't been knocked or really, badly hurt by the changeling's charge. Oh and there was that Rachel girl, standing barely a foot away, glaring at...him…

Since when did she get that close?

"Ah!" he cried out as that black mojo stuff smacked or shocked or did whatever it was it did to him. "That hurt!" he complained.

"Do you not realize where you are? You could have gotten yourself killed," the hood-wearing cloak girl growled at him. "Had I not intervened, you would have been green Swiss cheese. Where's your survival instinct?"

Garfield tilted his head to a side. "What's a survival instinct?"

"An idiot then. You can't go rushing off on an alien battleship. Since we're stuck with you now, you will stay with us, got it green boy?"

"Don't treat me like a kid!" Garfield retorted.

"Then don't act like one. Cyborg? Are you finished?" The not-that-cute girl was looking over at the much nicer robot guy now.

"Yeah, these guys are out," Cyborg answered, walking up to her.

"Good, can you cause a commotion? Bring as many as you can to us," Rachel said.

Raising up that kick-ass arm cannon, Cyborg replied, "One commotion coming up." Aiming down a hallway, he fired what looked like a powerful blast of energy that caused an explosion further down it.

Oh goody, more action! Time to slip into something that could do more than run and stab people with a horn. Let's do...a gorilla! The change was swift, the leathery rhino skin growing green fur, front legs extending into thick arms, and a snout and horn combo withdrew back into an ape face. Clenching and unclenching large leathery hands, Garfield was ready for anything that would come for them.

It didn't take long for the pounding of feet to reach his stronger sense of hearing, but before he could tell the other two what he heard, Cyborg beat him to the punch someone. "And here they come."

Rachel's cape began doing some weird waving motions, like a wind was blowing through it though there was no wind and Windstorm wasn't around. Kinda creepy to be honest. Cyborg was aiming his arm cannon in the direction of the incoming evil aliens, so that left him with…

His gorilla ear twitched and he looked behind himself. There was more coming from the other direction, though they hadn't come into sight yet. "We got company," he warned as he turned to face this new threat.

No one answered him, kinda rude if you asked him, but there was no time to point that out. The evil aliens were coming into sight and it was ass-kicking time.

Feeling and giving into the urge, Garfield pounded his chest in a show of dominance and gave a roar as those aliens armed their laser guns at him. Most likely were doing it from the other side too, but Cyborg could handle them, right?

Behind him, Rachel muttered something and a wave of that black mojo stuff flooded the hallway in front of him, crashing into the aliens and leaving them helpless. Launching himself forward, Garfield took the fight to them with all his gorilla strength.

* * *

The Tamaranian was leading the way for the trio, hopefully taking them closer to their destination. Every second was precious, especially since none of them had any clue how close Trogaar was to firing his weapon. Word of their infiltration should have reached him by now.

Also, the distraction that the rest of their group was providing seemed to be very effective as it was drawing any and all Gordanians to investigate it. That even included those appearing in their way.

Since Kori was in the lead, the Tamaranian was switching from marathon runner mode to attack mode, either firing one of those green blasts of hers or striking them down with a punch or and kick and leaving them to be dealt with by either Red Robin himself or Cassie. Each one delayed them by a few seconds as their progress slowed to handle each new threat and each delay increased the urgency they felt.

At least, that was how Red Robin felt.

Turning a corner, the hallway they were now running down was initially empty. Unsurprisingly, a Gordanian stepped into view, his weapon at the ready and most likely heading to where the other group was. Kori was on him with a one-two combo, one being a green energy blast to dislodge that rod-shaped laser gun and two a deck to the face to knock the alien off his feet.

Red Robin took this one. A follow-up kick to the face that resulted in the head smacking against the floor was enough to incapacitated. The maneuver meant he was now in the back as Cassie passed him. No problem, the armored bombshell of a blonde would handle the next one.

As it turned out, the next one was not too far away. Barely stepping out of a room, Kori only spared an elbow to the gut while Cassie jackhammered the Gordanian's head, her super strength sending him down to the floor, head bouncing off the unfeeling metal surface. And now the teen vigilante was passing her.

Another turn down an empty-for-now corridor only slowed them down by a second. Then the slowing down came to a full stop. Up ahead was a door, like many of the others they had passed. Unlike those, this one had two guards on either side of it, both of whom had spotted them instantly.

"Intruders!" one bellowed as he aimed his weapon at them. This hallway seemed much longer all of a sudden.

Kori attempted to do what she had been doing this whole time, blasting those damn weapons out of the aliens' hands. Unfortunately, even though it took about a second for her to power up that green energy of hers, it took a fraction of that for those weapons to do the same. As those laser came shooting towards them, the Tamaranian only had time to shoot and neutralize two of those beams before being forced back.

There were just too many of those laser beams. There was probably an actual term for them, but the masked teen couldn't care less right about now.

What he did care about was that they were pushed back and out of that hallway. The constant firing from the two Gordanians came to an end as soon as the three of them were out of sight.

"Okay," Red Robin said into the silence. "Can we pass those guys or…?"

Kori shook her head. "If my spatial memory is correct, that should be the bridge on the other side of those doors. Gordanians design their bridges to have only one entrance; we can only enter that way."

"Okay," the vigilante repeated slowly, nodding his head. Pulling out one of his whirling discs, he took a deep breath then peek around the corner long enough to throw the spinning projectile. He only watched long enough to see the throwing weapon get shot out of the air with extreme precision. "That didn't work," he said after pulling back. "Anybody have any ideas?"

Kori tried using their cover to power up as strong as energy bolts as she could before firing them. Unfortunately, the time it took to make them and the efficiency of the two guards prevented the attacks from reaching them. Damn, of all the Gordanians to run into, it had to be the ones with the good aim. Stormtroopers, they were not.

"Damn, already used all my smoke bombs," Red Robin swore as he searched his utility belt for anything. He wasn't finding anything that he could use whether for its intended purpose or a creative one. He had his cape but he didn't want to risk either damaging it or finding out it wasn't up to the task of shielding him. Bullets, knives, most anything else a human could throw at him wasn't that much of a problem. Those laser weapons were something else on the other hand.

Then Cassie stepped up. "Stay behind me," she ordered. "When we get close, take them out."

"What are you doing?" Red Robin half-asked, half demanded. If he wasn't mistaken, it sounded like the blonde intended to walk down that hallway and frankly, that armor of hers didn't cover her entirely. "You're not thinking…?"

"There's only one way to find out, Red." She gave him a confident smirk, like she either knew what she was doing or it was a devil-may-care one that teens used right before doing something stupid.

Before he could say or do anything to stop her, she was running around the corner and down that hallway. Eyes widening behind his mask, even as the laser fire started up again, Red Robin willingly stuck a part of his body out from their cover to watch the most likely bloody spectacle about to happen.

The only part he was right about was that it was a spectacle. Bloody on the other hand…

There she was, her back faced towards him and charging down that corridor like a woman on a mission. The predictable laser fire was coming at her, so very quick was each beam. Raising an arm, she blocked the first laser with her arm-length gauntlet, then blocked the second with her other arm.

As more shots were taken at her, Cassie continuing to block as many as she could, the vigilante continued to witness it with his jaw dropping open. Then Kori pushed him ahead, prompting him to try and keep up with the blonde ahead of him. If the Tamaranian had said anything, it had gone over his head.

A laser clipped Cassie' shoulders, but to his surprise, where once had been clear skin, a spiky, metal shoulder guard appeared. A beam zipping past her torso had an intricately designed metal corset covered the area as if it had always been there. They were reaching about three-quarters of the way and Cassie no longer looked like some Amazon warrior. Now she looked decked out for war and man, there were a lot of spikes on it.

There was a lot about that armor she wore that he didn't know about.

The two Gordanian guards were becoming more and more desperate as Cassie drew nearer and nearer. Throwing out a hand, that rope of hers lassoed one of the laser rifles. Pulling back her arm, the weapon was yanked out of the alien's hands and in his surprise, he was left open for an attack courtesy of Koriand'r. He cried out as a bolt of green energy detonated in front of his large, large hands reaching up to try and protect it.

That distracted the second guard enough for Cassie to reach him. With a hand, she crushed the barrel of the laser blaster with her immense strength and yanked it to a side. With the other, it met the alien's flesh and bone, and very hard the vigilante might add. Into the wall beside him, the Gordanian's head smashed into the surface with enough force to knock him out. Hopefully anyway.

Meanwhile, Kori had finished off the first guard, and now nothing stood before them except for the door. Looking over her shoulder, Red Robin felt more than saw the blonde's eyes scan over him before looking over at the orange alien now beside her.

"I did not expect to see such a transformation before," Kori remarked.

"Never really used it like that before," Cassie shrugged.

"Is there anything else you're not telling m—us about that armor?" Red Robin asked, hoping that he didn't sound like he was throwing accusations around. She had pretty much done a very badass thing just now.

"Yeah, but none of it would be useful to you," Cassie retorted. "And if you can hold back your curiosity, I'd like to take care of the evil alien commander guy and put him in a hurt locker."

Fair enough. "He should be on the other side of this door. Do we just walk up to it and it opens?"

"Normally, yes," Kori confirmed, matching actions to words. The orange-skinned alien took a step towards the door and stopped in front of. Contrary to what she said, there was no opening of the metal barrier. Most likely locked then.

"Is there another way to open them? Like do these guys have like a key or something?" Red Robin suggested. He couldn't see a keypad or anything like that around. Also, the door was a flat, metal surface with nothing like a doorknob or a place you could insert a key in anyway.

"I have your key right here," Cassie replied. "Take a step back," the blonde recommended to the Tamaranian. While Kori did that, the armored teen took up a stance, legs spread apart and body tensing.

With a hand, she pressed it into one side of the door and began to strain. A grunt escaped from the blonde's lips, and even under the armor you could see her shoulders were trembling with effort. There was another groan, this one not having any human quality to it. Beneath Cassie's fingertips, the metal that made up this door began to warp, giving way under the amount of strength being placed on it.

The armored arm that the hand was attached to was shaking with effort, but so far nothing—whoa. Whatever was holding the door closed finally gave up and Cassie practically tore the door off as she slid it from one side to the other.

Her shoulders rose up and down as the armored blonde took in deep breaths and man, she must look like quite the sight. Too bad much of the effect was lost on him as he could only see her back. Beyond her, the bridge awaited and from what he could see around her, it looked almost like what he had expected.

You know, the typical layout of computer terminals, various Gordanians sat in front of them. Almost like that one space exploration show. Only, he couldn't see a captain's chair. The captain, though, was there, standing with arms held behind his back. And he was turning, a displeased expression on his face.

"Trogaar," Kori uttered softly, so quiet that you would have thought she hadn't said a word.

Without an order given, the sitting Gordanians all stood up with weapons in hand, aimed directly at them. It was not a good place to be standing in the doorway then. Also, would Cassie's strange armor be able to withstand such a barrage?

"What is the meaning of this? You dare to attack me on my own ship?" Trogaar demanded as he turned to fully face them.

"You don't look so tough," Cassie retorted.

The various Gordanians growled at the insult yet had not taken a shot. Maybe that was because their leader had held up a hand, a gesture that halted their firing. From the way the alien was tilting his body to a side, it was as if he was looking around the blonde.

Trogaar's eyes narrowed. "You brought my property back to me."

"She's not your property," Cassie growled.

"It does not matter what you think. The Tamaranian belongs to me. Because you have brought it with you, I will give you the only mercy I am capable of, and allow you the chance to step aside," the Gordanian stated. "Do so immediately, and I will not destroy your city."

Cassie was about to say something, but Kori interrupted her by placing a hand on her shoulder and tugging lightly on it. The blonde looked over at their friend and the wan expression she held on her face.

"It is okay, my friend. This is my battle," the Tamaranian native said. "Allow me to fight it."

"By yourself,' Cassie said incredulously.

"You have more important concerns. Deal with them first," Kori told her, Red Robin picking up the implication immediately.

"She's right," he agreed. Though he didn't like the wording, he added, "Stand aside."

A glare was flashed over in his direction, only to return back to Kori who was pushing her to a side. Cassie gave in to the nonverbal command, though she was reluctant. Stepping around her, Kori took center stage as she faced the alien overlord.

"I have returned," she said.

"At quite the expense," Trogaar quipped. With his raised hand, he gestured for two of his men to take back was belonged to him. Leaving their stations, the two Gordanians approached the Tamaranian, both reaching out to seize her.

Kori was having none of that. Arms rocketing out from her sides, she snatched the wrists of each outstretched hand. Violently, she brought the two Gordanians together, pulled them apart, then slammed them together again before throwing one to her right across the bridge. The stunned alien landed against a console, the force of his body denting the electronic station and sending sparks flying out of it. The other Gordanian was decked in the face instead of thrown and allowed to collapse to floor without further injury.

Trogaar growled. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You are under a false pretense," the Tamaranian stated. "I am not here to surrender myself to you."

Swiftly, she fell into a fighting stance, one arm held in front of her with her fingers curved almost limply. The other was bent back, the hand cupped as if holding something though right now it was only air. It was an odd pose, yet she held herself at the ready as she added one last statement.

"I am here to visit great physical trauma on you."


	20. To Grasp the Future with your Hands

Author's Note: Happy New Year all. And we're back to the regular schedule so no needing to wait a whole week for the next update. I hope _Fallen Olympus_ has been fulfilling that itch in the meantime and have ya'll been keeping up with it? Things are about to get serious in that one. Enjoy.

* * *

To Grasp the Future with your Hands

There were any number of responses that Red Robin had expected. There was the calm and cool response where Trogaar would probably say something like "Is that so?" and wait for whatever attack Kori sprung on him. Then there was the angry response with "How dare you blah blah blah," or "You dare defy me" or something like that.

So many ways the evil alien leader would have acted and so many things he could have said.

Bursting out in laughter was not one of them.

"You think your skills are developed enough to do battle with me?" Tragaar managed to say between guffaws. "This planet has inflated your opinion of yourself."

"Hey, she did real fine against your men. They were nothing against her!" Cassie snarled in the Tamaranian's defense.

"And they are soldiers," Trogaar retorted, his eyes not leaving his orange-skinned prize. "None of them are warriors, who live, breathe, and feast on battle. Who trained themselves everyday to improve their skills and abilities to their full potential. They are too reliant on their plasma rifles to truly be effective in battle, but they don't need to be. As long as they fulfill their purpose that is all that is needed."

"So that means you're a warrior?" Red Robin spoke up, already getting a feeling that there really might be more to this guy than a simple extraterrestrial invader.

"The finest!" Trogaar boasted. "You intruders may have the skills to come this far, as admirable as that may be. I possess one thing that you do not. One thing that no amount of training or talent, and ability can truly substitute for."

"For a man whom I have never seen fight his equal, you make large claims," Kori said. "Ever since you placed your claim on me, I have done nothing but trained and survived. We shall put your claims to the test and put them where they belong: in your _schlonkter_!"

Wait, what?

Kori was an orange blur, racing towards the alien leader with her hands glowing green. It was an impressive speed, no motion going to waste as she closed the distance between the two of them and threw her first punch.

It was an attack that Trogaar blocked, smoothly raising an arm up and allowing the blow to land against his golden gauntlet. His arm trembled under the force ramming against it, but other than that, he showed no signs of being hurt.

Without stopping, Kori withdrew her fist while throwing the other, which was blocked with Trogaar's other gauntlet-wearing arm. Blow after blow she threw, and attack after attack he blocked, not even looking like he was exerting himself.

Pulling back, Kori fired a bolt of her green energy at her larger opponent, the bolt blocked with, again, a gauntlet-wearing arm that showed no damage afterwards. However, Kori changed tactics, leaping at the Gordanian and swinging a leg out in an attempt at a mighty kick. It was one that was knocked to a side by a swiftly timed elbow and followed by a large, meaty fist uppercutting into the Tamaranian's stomach.

The assault did not stop, as Trogaar brought his other arm up and swung his other fist, landing a blow to the side of Kori's head and sending her down to bounce against the metal floor, sliding against it for a few feet before coming to a stop.

"Youthful vigor cannot replace hard experience won from the battlefield," Trogaar stated. "I have seen hundreds of battles, slave. I have fought in all of them and survived. Those coups your race is so fond of are little more than bar fights. A place to receive a bloody nose as your trophy and nothing more. Never have you allowed your blood to soak into the parched earth as your soldiers die around you by the score."

Kori was picking herself up, wiping a hand against her mouth as she silently regarded her opponent. A bruise was beginning to appear on the side of her face, a symbol of her earlier carelessness.

"Oh, I have heard enough," Cassie growled as she attempted to join in. Red Robin, however, reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder, attempting to stop her. "What, Red? Not the time," she spat at him.

"We have other concerns, Wonder Girl," he stated, using the name that she seemed to dislike. It worked as now he had her full attention. "Do you not know what Kori is doing? She's giving us the chance we need to—" his voice dropped to a harsh whisper here, "—take out that weapon. We need to trust that she can handle him long enough for us to do that. When the city's safe, then we join."

"But she's getting her ass kicked!" the blonde exclaimed, gesturing with a hand to the sight before them.

Kori had launched herself at her larger enemy, both hands covered in green energy. She sent punches, switched to kicks, flowed to elbow jabs, and returned to swinging her fists. Trogaar either blocked, parried, or dodged each and every attack, letting the Tamaranian's frustration mount first then going in for a quick and assault-stopping attack of his own. He broke through her guard with ease, nailing her in the face, following up with a blow to the gut, and then another to her back, sending her to the floor once again.

"Oh, he is toast!" Cassie growled, taking a step to bring herself into the fight. The teen vigilante had to yank her back to get her attention once more.

"She knows what she's doing. I'm trusting that she's holding back and waiting for us to do what we need to do. So let's do it. I think the destruction of his bridge would be a big enough of a distraction to let us kick his ass all over Jump. So let's do this thing." He pulled out a couple of his whirling discs, specifically the ones with the explosives within them. "You take everything to the left, and I'll get everything to the right. Get all the consoles and anything that looks like a button."

The armored blond was peeved as she looked back over him, but eventually, she gave a nod of understanding.

To sweeten the deal, he added, "When you're done, you can show this guy the meaning of girl power."

Now she rolled her eyes at him. "He's not the only one whose ass needs my fist going up it."

Ew. Oh, wait, she was also talking about him.

"You can try," he challenged as he took a step away from her, angling his body to face the right side of the room. "But I bet I finish up before you do."

He could feel her eyes narrowing on him, rising up to his bait. Good, because by his count, he had about five or six Gordanians watching their boss's smackfest on Kori and thus had left themselves open to attack. The masked teen was going to need to be quick to take them all out before they could mount a defense against him.

Time to put those hard-won fighting skills that only a Gotham education could give you to the test.

* * *

The ship might be larger than they had thought. These aliens were coming out of the woodwork like a swarm of fire ants, all trying to kill them.

Victor found that if he imagined their skins to be pink instead of green or blue or whatever mix of those two colors they were, he put a bit more of an oomph into his attacks whether they be punches, or blasts from his arm cannon, or being clubbed with said arm cannon. There was a strange feeling of satisfaction that came with it.

"How ya doing?" he called back to the cloak-wearing girl who was flinging around Gordanians with her black—literally the color here—magic, both literal and metaphorical. Though, she was wearing said cloak more like a cape, to him it would always be a cloak.

Her hands covered in balls of black magic, Rachel used her power on anything she pointed to, usually the invading aliens' weapons, and dismantling them or tearing them apart. Sometimes she would fire bolts of black magic down hallways, taking out or scattering the invaders and leaving them vulnerable to being mopped up. Said mop was green in color and happened to be bouncing on top of any guy unlucky to be in the way like a kangaroo.

That last part was literal, by the way.

"Why do you ask? Reaching your limits?" the hooded girl retorted. She didn't even seem tired or winded at all.

"Far from it," he replied, firing off a blue-colored blast of his own and nailing a Gordanian in the chest, knocking him away.

"If you have time for chatter, you have time to fight," Rachel admonished as she released a wave of her magic. Again literal, but instead of rushing down the hallway like a wave, it flowed instead into the walls around these alien bad guys. Said bad guys noticing that they weren't being harmed took the opportunity to fire at the cloak-wearing girl with their rod-shaped weapons, forcing her to bring up a shield to protect herself. That only required her to use one of her hands, meaning her other hand could wield the rest of her magic coating the walls.

And wield she did as she tore the magic-infused hallway apart and smashed the laser-firing aliens with walls of black-glowing metal. That was really neat.

"Actually, I was talking about the Green Bean," Victor said. "Unlike yourself or yours truly, he don't have a robotic body that never tires or a ton of magic that you never seem to run out of. Just look at him."

Said Green Bean was just finishing up landing on top of one of Rachel's latest victims, bringing the full weight of his animal body down on the now prone body and adding some twisting motions as if to press the alien further into the floor. Immediately after that, Garfield reverted back into his human form, breathing loudly and wiping at his forehead. That lasted but a second as he resumed his gorilla form and threw himself backwards, arms bent so that his elbows rammed into the faces of two incoming Gordanians.

"He is slowing down," Rachel remarked, raising an eyebrow. Not that the cybernetic teen knew whether or not she was raising an eyebrow since she was turned away from him. She just sounded like that was what she was doing.

"Want to give him a break? Let him take five while the two of us continue giving these guys the smackdown?" he suggested.

"I can hear you two!" And suddenly, the Grass Stain was right next to the two of them. "And I'm fine!" Garfield added even as Victor could see green skin covered in sweat. "I can take them. I can take all of them!"

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself," Rachel warned. "Know your limits and stay within them. No sense doing something stupid and getting yourself killed."

"I told you, stop treating me like a kid," the shapeshifter accused, eyes narrowed.

"No, pinching your cheek and calling you baby names would be treating you like a kid," Victor pointed out. There seemed to be a pause in their fight as no new incoming Gordanians were rushing at them. Good enough for a break.

"Should I pinch your cheeks?" Rachel asked blandly.

"Oh come on! I get enough of that already! Bad enough Terra does it." And now a pout. Way to go to not proving you weren't a kid.

"This Terra sounds like she's very sensible," Rachel remarked.

"You've been doing a lot of stuff yourselves! Aren't you guys getting tired?" Garfield snapped back.

"Nope. Energy levels are nowhere near being depleted," Victor quipped. "Pays to be half-robot sometimes."

"I am not experiencing any strain, so no," Rachel stated.

Garfield looked at one, then the others, switching his gaze between them until he finally cracked. "Oh come on! You two can't be human! I swear!"

Victor found he took no offense at that. "Well, with my superior robot body, I think it would be best that I find some new bad guys to pummel. You know, since robots don't get tired easily. Take five, I'll handle this."

"Nuh uh!" Garfield refused. "I can go twice as long as you! I'll even bet on it!"

Victor eyed the green-skinned kid skeptically, taking in the sight of the half-naked guy who only wore a pair of tight-fitting shorts around his waist. "You look like a casino already had its way with you. What would you bet with anyway?"

Green eyes narrowed at him. "The only thing that matters between two guys. Bragging rights."

That was a really good point. "Alright, Grass Stain. You're on. Last one standing gets to hold it over the other's head for a reasonable amount of time."

"You're on!" the shapeshifter agreed, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists. At that time, a conveniently arriving group of Gordanians were coming into sight. How thoughtful of them to show up. "Time to do what I do best!" the changeling bragged as he started running towards the incoming group, shifting into something small to avoid the laser fire, then turning into an elephant at the last second to trample them.

"You really shouldn't encourage him," Rachel said.

"I know, but it's fun anyway," Victor replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bet to win."

He ignored the grumbled, "Men," that the cloak-wearing girl uttered as she charged after the Green Bean.

* * *

As irritating as that masked jerk could be, he was marginally right about this. They needed to find the controls to this ship's doomsday weapons and take them out before her home was turned into a smoldering crater.

Mom would be super pissed if that happened.

As the ever annoying Red Robin snuck off to do his thing, Cassie was not going to be as subtle. Subtle was not her style. Could she sneak around? Yeah. She did know how to keep out of sight. But taking something that caught her eye versus property destruction were two different things. One had an element of excitement in it, will I be caught, won't I be caught. You left no sign of yourself that you were there, other than the theft. The other option, you're blatantly leaving behind evident you were there. Kinda hard to ignore busted up computer consoles.

Apparently, the fight between Kori and Trogaar was too entertaining to pay attention to anything else. The first Gordanian hadn't known she was coming up to him until she tapped him on the shoulder, then decked him out cold. Hmm, maybe did it a bit too hard because his body ended slamming into the wall too. Eh, whatever.

She leapt at a nearby second alien, also engrossed with the alien-on-alien fight. Swinging her lower body while holding out an arm, she clotheslined the bastard and forced his upper body back far enough that he lost his balance. Turning her arm enough, she turned her clothesline into an elbow drop that was amplified by the second as the Gordanian hit the floor. Turning her wrist, she hammered her fist down into his face, causing two large hands to clutch at it in pain.

Picking herself up, she grabbed the Gordanian, picked him up, and smashed him down on the computer consoles to her right, trashing them. As sparks blew out, it caught Trogaar's attention for a second, allowing Kori the chance to let her fist make friends with the alien leader's head. Huh, maybe there was something more to this.

Maybe she could help out Kori with her fight without actually helping against the main man himself. If he couldn't keep his eyes on the Tamaranian, that was his own fault.

On the other side of the room, she could see that Red Robin was making use of some of the skills that she knew he was capable of but hadn't been using recently. Somehow he had gotten his hands on one of the rod-shaped laser guns and was using it as a staff, disarming and beating up the alien goons standing around like doofuses.

Well, couldn't let him show her up. She went on the attack, stabbing an arm into a control panel and dragging it through it, her armor protecting her from the crackling electrical sparks left in her wake. Knobs and switches were knocked out of places as she dragged her gauntleted arm through one, two, and finally three of these panels before yanking it out and shoulder tackling an alien who are become aware of her approach.

Digging his feet into the floor as best as he could, the Gordanian stopped his progress going backwards and attempted to grapple with her. Far be it from the blonde to not go along with that, grabbing onto the large, blue-green hands and exerting her strength against this goon. Hmm, this guy was as strong as he looked, meaning he wasn't giving into hers.

Time for a trick, then. Rotating her wrists, she twisted the alien's, getting a whimper out of him, before tearing one hand away and ramming it into an armored chest, denting it. The blow bent him over and freed her other hand which she used to uppercut him and take the bastard out.

Due to his larger size, the Gordanian had hidden a friend of his who had his laser weapon ready. As soon as the knocked out alien fell, a laser beam was fired at the blonde, forcing Cassie to block with her gauntlet. A second shot struck her on her armored torso, causing another change in it as it covered more of her body and got spikier. That included the helm that now blocked off all but her eyes as the otherworldly metal stretched over the lower part of her face.

In response, she threw out the gold rope that accessorized the armor and lassoed the weapon. It was simple to pull it out of the alien's grip, and with a flick of her wrist, she used the rope as whip and smashed the weapon on top of the Gordanian's head. Bringing it back up, she brought down the makeshift mace again, the Gordanian covering his head as he cowered from the incoming strike.

While the alien was doing the sensible thing, it meant that he was too busy trying to protect himself and was not keeping an eye on her. Far be it from the blonde to take advantage. Crossing the distance between the two of them, Cassie planted a leg on the floor while raising the other one up. Kicking it forward, her foot struck the Gordanian and sent him flying backwards, his body slamming into a row of monitors behind him, damaging them.

Retrieving the laser weapon she had taken from her rope, she stabbed it into the consoles next to her. She would have fired it, but she didn't know how to use it so no awesome frying of the circuitry.

Up ahead, she could see Red Robin was struggling against a Gordanian, the alien keeping up with the prick, but that wasn't what grabbed her attention. It was the fact that another one was aiming his laser weapon at the guy and was waiting for a clear shot.

Without thinking, she acted. Throwing her rope ahead of her, she lassoed the alien asshole and pulled back on the glowing restraint. The Gordanian flew back off his feet, heading straight towards the armored blonde. Cocking an arm back, she flung her fist forwards and struck the goon down, letting him fly forward and into a computer panel.

Yanking him back like he was a yo-yo, she repeated the action one more time to make sure the alien was down for the count too while taking out more of those monitors and consoles in the process.

Great, now the Batman wannabe owed her one. She was going to cash in on as soon as she let him know.

A green bolt of energy detonated in front of her, and Cassie snapped her head around towards the battle between Kori and Trogaar. Not much progress on that front, the blonde noticed. Kori was firing that green power of hers, but the alien overlord was deflecting, slapping them aside like some kind of anime character. Now that was just cheap. Looks like the Tamaranian could use some help.

A quick look to see if any other Gordanians were around—Red Robin was taking care of the last one—and the armored blonde was rushing at the ship's captain, determined to help her fellow gal pal.

Fist cocked back, Cassie did not do the stupid thing like shout a war cry as she threw it forward. Despite that, Trogaar turned his body at the last second, her fist passing by him harmlessly. Before that fact could fully process in her head, an elbow jabbed her in her armored face and sent her flipping off her feet while continuing to move forward.

Coming to a stop, it took her a second to push herself off the floor, shaking her dazed head to clear out all the metaphorical cobwebs. What had just happened? How'd he dodge then attack her like that? She was coming from behind.

"My friend, are you harmed?" And Kori was at her side, placing a hand on her armored shoulder.

"My pride is," Cassie grumbled as she got fully onto her feet.

"It is to be expected. Trogaar has a reputation for hand-to-hand combat," the Tamaranian replied. "I have been finding that out much to my misfortune."

"Do you not think I have not had enemies come at me via my back? Pitiful lifeform. Such base strategies will not work against me," Trogaar stated from where he stood, giving the Gordanian version of a not impressed look.

Cassie spat some saliva out of her mouth. Because of the helm that now covered her head, that spit went nowhere but down inside the armor. Eww. "Think he can take the two of us at the same time?"

"There is only one way to find out." Kori was facing her enslaver, readying herself for the next assault.

The two of them lunged at the alien commander simultaneously. Kori's move sent her higher into the air, and Cassie reacted instinctively, lowering herself so that she was angling for Trogaar's legs. Kori threw a punch at the Gordanian's head, which was easily dodged. Cassie meanwhile, slid into a crouch and kicked her leg her, swiping at Trogaar's legs.

She was successful and kicking the alien's legs out from under him, but he was correcting himself already, going into a controlled roll, dodging another attack from Kori, and ending up back on his feet. Barely upright, he caught an orange fist with one hand, pulled on it, and threw his head forward, head-butting the Tamaranian.

As Kori fell back, Cassie took her turn. She put all her strength into her punch, not holding back in the slightest. Trogaar, however, tilted his head to a side, allowing the punch to pass harmlessly beside him. Withdrawing her fist, she threw the other one in rapid succession, missing again as the alien commander just leaned his body to aside. Again, and again, the armored teen attacked, missing each time and growing all the more frustrated for it.

Unexpectedly, Trogaar grabbed her arm and twisted it to a side. Surprised, the blond was unable to block the blow that nailed her in the gut, and even her armor was not strong enough to reduce the power of that attack. She could feel it in her organs, damn it!

Her armor did come to the rescue as small spikes grew out of her gauntlets and pierced the skin of Trogaar's hand. The Gordanian commander tore his hand away from her and took a couple steps back, eyeing his hand while not looking away from the two of them. Meanwhile, Cassie took a step back too, a hand pressed against her gut. She could still feel it.

"Interesting. Your armor reacts to protect you," Trogaar observed. Tiny holes in his palm were leaking little rivulets of blood, or what the blonde presumed to be blood. Red eyes bored into her. "Where did you come by this armor?"

"A girl's gotta keep her secrets," Cassie spat back. Like hell she would tell this bastard anything.

"Then I will take you as well as my property," the Gordanian stated.

"You will not!" Kori roared as she fired another green bolt. Not held back by his puncture wounds, he deflected that attack with his characteristic ease.

"You do the Okaaran Warlords shame, Tamaranian," the alien commander taunted. "Your fighting prowess is subpar, an embarrassment. I should have emphasized more combat training."

"Shove it up your ass!" Cassie retorted, not willing to sit there and let this asshole talk smack about her friend. She threw her rope at him, hoping to lasso him like all the others. Did it say a lot about her that she found herself surprised when he caught it, snatching it right out of the air? But wait, he didn't stop there. With a powerful pull, he yanked the blonde off her feet, flinging her over to him.

But he was not the only one who could react in a split second. She flipped herself over and kicked out with both feet, using the momentum of her sudden flight to her advantage to nail the blue-green alien in the chest. Trogaar stumbled back, but was quick to react, wrapping his arms around her lower legs.

Before she knew it, he was spinning the blonde around before letting go and throwing her across the room to smash into a wall. Air escaped her lungs from the force of her sudden stop and she fell to the floor, landing into a heap of armor and not-so-kickass girl power.

"You have potential," Trogaar commented. "What uses the Citadel could find for you."

Raising her head up slowly, Cassie didn't dignify that with a response. She knew where he was going for this. A two-for-the-price-of-one deal. Not happening, no way. She wouldn't let it.

As she tried to push herself off the floor, she spotted movement behind Trogaar. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw Red Robin coming from behind, a laser weapon raised above him as he attempted to bring it down on the alien commander's head.

* * *

Returning to his human form, if you could call it that at this point, Garfield paused to take a breather, hands propped on his knees as he bent over. He was starting to feel a little winded. Never before had he done so much in such a short amount of time.

And it was so awesome. Fighting aliens and kicking their asses! Helping out that nice, orange alien. When was the last time he did something like that? Oh right, never. Eh.

Okay, enough of this, time to show them all what the master of the animal kingdom could do and...where was everyone?

Outside of a couple evil alien dudes laying on the ground, there was no one in sight. Not Cyborg or the creepy chick in the cape/cloak thing. Nada. Was that a good thing? Well, if he wanted someone to watch his back then no it was not. But they were holding him against his will, so...maybe it balanced out? Sort of? Kinda?

The only thing that was certain was that it made his head hurt. Ow.

Whatever, just focus on kicking some evil alien butt. Simple, made sense, didn't need a lot of thinking to do. Oh, and were those footsteps he heard? A little ways off, but they were getting louder. That mean they were heading his way. Heh, these ears weren't for show, you know?

Crouching down, he allowed his body to shift into something more worthy of being a hunter, a green-colored tiger to be exact. Smooth movements, stealth against a metal floor, and all the things you need to sneak up on someone and have some power to back you up. Apex predator to the extreme. Now to wait a bit, move a little closer, wait a little bit more, then move closer to the corner. Yes, yes, those footsteps were louder now.

He readied his feline body, getting into pounce mode. His vision focused on a single point, tunnel vision. He could hear the breathing, the fact that the footsteps were a bit off for some large, usually running aliens. Ignore that, get ready because they were about to come into sight in five...four...three… two…

Garfield was starting to leap as a flash of yellow came into a view and _oh shit, that was no evil alien_! ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!

A shame he was already leaping forward. It was a good thing that Terra—and it really was Terra—had quick enough reflexes to duck down and allow him to pass over her. With his padded tiger paws, the green shapeshifter rebounded off the wall and pushed himself back, flipping and shifting back into his human form before landing into a crouch as if he had always done such a thing.

There was a little truth in that last part.

"Terra!" he exclaimed as he shot up and rushed over to her. "What are you doing here! I didn't know that was you!"

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Terra yelled at him, hand over her chest. She was taking deep breaths, probably trying to steady her racing heartbeat.

"Well, yeah, I mentioned that I didn't know it was you. I thought it was some more of those aliens," Garfield replied, shrugging his shoulders though he placed his hands on hers, trying to soothe her.

"What are you even doing here, Gar? What are you thinking?" Terra demanded, still a bit frazzled.

"Oh. I heard some aliens were invading and thought it would be fun to kick their butts. Are you here to do that too?" A bit short and it left out a bit, but there was no way he wanted to let her know he had been captured and held against his will. That hurt his street cred, you know? "Say, why aren't there any rocks around?"

"Gar, no one in their right mind thinks that kicking alien butt is a good idea," Terra said, sounding a bit calmer now. "Also, we're in a spaceship that's floating above an ocean. Not a lot of earth here."

"Oh. Well, when would I get another chance to fight me some aliens?" he asked, curious. Because yeah, it wasn't every day aliens invaded Earth, except that one time. And who wouldn't want to fight them? These guys were easy too.

"Gar, focus on me for a sec," Terra told him, placing her hands on either side of his face and steadying his gaze on her. "I need to tell you something and I want you to listen to me. You need to run."

"Run? What?" Okay, where was this coming from? He was missing something, but what?

"I don't have a lot of time to explain, just trust me. Run away. Get out of the city. Don't stop," Terra told him, using that tone of voice of hers that meant that she was really, really serious. Not really serious. Really, really serious. There was a difference—one more really than the other.

"Why? What's going on?" he pressed, wanting and needing to know.

Terra looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, more out of frustration than anything, and it wasn't the first time she got like that with him. "Look, Brother Blood is pissed, he suddenly wants you back. He sent us to come find you, you specifically."

"And…that's a good thing, right? That means he really cares about us, right?" Garfield said slowly.

"No! It's not a good thing! He attacked Warblade and threatened him about it. You know I don't trust him, and he slipped something when he flipped. I don't know what he's talking about, but it doesn't sound good. You have some kind of key he's looking for—shut up, don't ask me what that means 'cause I don't know either—he wants it really bad, and you need to run. Get out of here and never come back." Terra's speech was really speeding up, getting faster and faster the more she spoke.

"Why don't I give him the key? That'll help, right?" Sounded like a good idea to him. Except, he didn't have a key on him. Tight shorts and he knew there were no pockets in it. And he wasn't carrying any key either.

"No, Gar, no. Please, for once in your life, don't argue with me on this one. Just—"

"You found him."

Surprised at the new voice, Garfield looked over Terra' shoulder and there was Wanderer standing a few feet away. She was exposing quite a bit of skin too. Nice to look at but bad to touch. Why did he want to touch it all of a sudden? No, Gar, no, bad. Terra was who you were close with.

Terra seemed to hesitate, her body tensing under green hands. "Eh, yeah, I found him. So, I guess we can leave now, right?"

"Contact Warblade and follow me. We leave now," Wanderer stated.

Garfield's pointed ear perked. "We got company coming," he warned as three Gordanians were approaching them...behind him! They came into view, appearing from around another corner and sheesh, how many were there in this ship?

Before he could do anything, Wanderer was using his head as a stepping stone and rushing down to the evil aliens. Thankfully she was wearing some moccasins or life would have really begun to suck. The one in front barely had time to aim his laser gun thing at the dark-skinned, sexy—ahem—gal when she was passing by him, allowing her arm to make contact with any exposed skin on the larger alien.

Nothing happened initially, but as the blue-green alien was turning and in the process try to shoot her, his body stiffened then slackened, falling to the floor as a crazy amount of boils popped up all over his body. There was a choked scream of agony, a lot of twitching, and was that foam coming out of the mouth? Yep, looked like it.

At that time, Wanderer was already taking on the second one in line, knocking the laser rifle weapon aside and doing the same thing she had done to the first alien. As that one began to do the same thing the first alien had, the third one was backing up and trying to defend himself. Instead of aiming his rod-shaped gun thing, he was using it to try and block the deadly female.

To compensate, Wanderer took on an offensive stance, going onto the attack, stabbing her hands forth like they were knives or something. It was her style of fighting, and Garfield didn't really get it. Her arms were like noodles yet as quick as snakes. Any attack she made was deflected either by the alien's weapon or the armor he wore.

But he couldn't last forever, because Wanderer usually found a way through any defense, given enough time, and she made skin-to-skin contact with him. Like his buddies, he too ended up falling to the floor to die in agony.

She was literally lethal to the touch.

Looking back over to the two of them with no emotions on her face, she spoke her next order, "No delays. We leave. Now."

Garfield was tempted to stand up straighter, even give a salute. That probably wouldn't go over real well, would it? Yeah, no monkey business here, Gar.

As she was reaching down to pull out what looked like a walkie talkie, a laser beam burned right through her stomach, the shapeshifter barely having a second to lean his body and push Terra to a side to avoid it. Animal instincts sometimes filtered into his normal, human body, not always a good thing, but being able to react at a split-second was sometimes helpful. In this case it was.

A second laser cut through Wanderer, then a third, the mature girl's eyes widening slightly and mouth slightly open. There were holes in her body, perfect circles through which you could see all the way through if you were close enough. As she fell to her knees, the presence of a fourth Gordanian came into view, his laser rifle thing held in the firing position. Looks like he had hid out of sight while his buddies were taken out and waited for the first chance he got.

Unfortunately, he was too far away for Garfield to try and reach him, and that went double if he was a good shot. Second, Wanderer was in the middle of the hallway and there was no way he wanted to chance touching her because, you know, it would kill him too. Then there was Terra behind him and he didn't want to leave her vulnerable.

Not a good situation, especially now when that bastard alien was aiming his weapon at them now. Come on, think Gar. Come up with something to save the day here. You needed to. Damn it, why was he coming up with a blank?

Because he was too focused on what was happening in front of him, he didn't see how Terra's eyes were completely yellow and glowing. The shaking of the ship followed by what looked like the tip of a mountain bursting through the floor and crushing the Gordanian into the ceiling, on the other hand, was kinda hard to miss.

* * *

As Trogaar's ship continued to hover threateningly over the bay, keeping an eye on the city in turmoil, another twist was added to Jump's woes. It started as a slight tremor, nothing to be worried about or to take notice of. Then it got worse.

Great, so an earthquake on top of being invaded by aliens? How could this get any worse?

Rushing out of the waters of the sea, a giant stalagmite surged up into the sky and stabbed into the spaceship, impaling the metal beast of destruction like a spear. That the ship didn't explode or anything like in a movie was a testament to its perceived sturdiness and a backhand to Hollywood.

Scout ships stationed at the city limits were alarmed by this new development and attempted to contact their only ticket back home, requesting answers for which none were forthcoming. Had their worst fears come to pass? Had the entity that had routed the Kalanorians before them appeared at long last?

Had their commander's attempts to keep this covert been for nothing?

As much as the scouts wanted to return to the freighter, they still had their orders to maintain the blockade. Only a fool would disobey Trogaar's orders. Yet, this was unprecedented. And no answers were forthcoming from their commander. They valued their lives, but they also wanted to leave this forsaken planet too.

Then one ship broke ranks, racing back to their commander's ship. Then a second scout followed, a third next. Soon, the blockade fell apart, desperate Gordanians rushing back to base and fueled by superstitious fear.

* * *

It wasn't that the world slowed down or anything. However, when the room lights up in red without warning, an alarm goes off, and that laser weapon is coming down onto the big, bad alien's head, there's a feel of the dramatic that comes over you.

Then reality come crashing in as the tough as hell Gordanian reacts faster than gravity and reflexively turns his upper body, catches the laser weapon, then uses it to catch then throw the masked vigilante holding over him and towards the two kickass females that he had been fighting all the while.

Kinda a fail in Cassie's mind, but hey, the guy tried hadn't he?

But that didn't explain what was going on either.

Ignoring the distraction of the lights and the blaring alarm, Trogaar sneered at Red Robin. "You are fifty years too young to attempt that with me."

"Am I?" Red Robin shouted over the alarm.

Trogaar's face looked like he was raising an eyebrow, though it was hard to tell. His gaze turned to the alien weapon he held where one of Red Robin's throwing things was cutting into its side. It was even harder to tell, thanks to the red lighting, but there was a flashing light in the center of it that was flickering faster and faster—

Then it blew up, a small puff of flames catching the alien overlord by surprise.

"Now!" Red Robin shouted, not looking at them but meaning them.

Kori was quick to respond, practically flying towards Trogaar and throwing a punch with all her might. She connected, striking her former master in the chest and following that up with a punch to the Gordanian's head. Spinning her body, the Tamaranian finished up with a kick, her leg slicing through the air and hitting Trogaar's side with a enough force that he was sent flying himself and only stopped when he crashed into a wall front first.

Her turn. Balling a fist tightly, she launched herself at the alien bastard and with all her strength, threw a punch that connected with the asshole's back and was powerful enough to force that larger alien through the wall.

Pulling back, she rolled her shoulder, wincing slightly. She had really gone all out on that one, might've pulled something as a result. Still, it felt really good. No regrets.

"Is he down?" Red Robin demanded, coming up behind her and also keeping a little distance.

Looking over her shoulder and at him, Cassie gave a smirk that was hidden by the helm covering her head. "I doubt he's getting up any time—"

The blow should have been expected since she had provided such a tempting target. Red Robin had to dodge out of the way as her body was flung towards him, the impact on the floor causing the spikes on her armor to stick into it, preventing her from bouncing. Damn it, keep your head in the game! Blinking the dark circles in her vision away, the armor-wearing blonde picked herself off the floor, yanking the new spikes growing out of her armor out of the metal surface.

Standing in the hole in the wall, Trogaar glowered at them all. No words or taunts were given. He was going on the attack, heading for the nearest of the three. A shame for the Gotham vigilante because he was the closest. The masked male was doing his best to dodge and barely just doing so as Trogaar was very quick with his attacks.

After one missed punch, the Gordanian reversed his arm and nearly clipped the vigilante in the head with his elbow. The maneuver took away any time Red Robin might've had to avoid the next attack and he was nailed in the gut, bending over at an almost ninety degree angle. But Trogaar wasn't done yet as the force of his blow carried the masked teen off his feet and threw him halfway across the bridge where he landed in a limp heap.

Kori was on the alien commander immediately, coming at a side and landing a blow in the Gordanian's ribs. Trogaar grimaced but did not pause for an instant as he tried that elbow move again. Kori ducked under it, expecting it, and threw a punch that was caught by the wrist with the Gordanian commander's other hand.

Unable to pull away, the Tamaranian tried a second punch with her free hand, only to fail as that one was snatched too, again by the wrist. Pulling out the orange alien's arms wide, the Gordanian viciously headbutted the helpless Kori once more, a sharp crack echoing over the sound of the blaring alarm.

The Tamaranian's legs buckled under her and she slumped down, held up only by her ruthless captor. Lowering his arms, and in effect letting Kori sink further to the floor, Trogaar did not gloat but merely stared down impassively.

Then he snorted. "I had expected more."

Whoops, spoke too soon. That asshole! Like Cassie was going to let him get away with saying that!

Suddenly, both of Kori's hands filled with that green energy of hers and were fired straight at Trogaar's face. The alien commander cried out, releasing the orange extraterrestrial to cover his face, taking a step back.

"I too expected more," Kori spoke as she stood up on her feet, a trickle of what must have been blood leaking from the corner of her mouth and down her chin. "I had thought you more than capable of seeing through my ruse. I was wrong. How disappointing."

Oh snap! She had played that fool!

Fist clenching, the muscles in her arms bunching up, Kori went in for a devastating blow, taking advantage of Trogaar's vulnerability to hit him right in the solar plexus. The metal of the Gordanian leader's armor bunched and dented beneath her strength, the Tamaranian not holding back any of her might.

His hands leaving his face, Trogaar's eyes widened and mouth dropped open as air escaped his body. Not letting up, Kori unleashed a second blow, landing it and sending the invader towards the front of the bridge. He crashed through the holographic images of Jump City, coming to a stop against the surface behind them.

Holding her hands in front of her, Kori formed a large ball of green energy, making it bigger than all the other ones she had used before. With a cry, she fired it at Trogaar, the bright orb rushing through the air with nothing stopping it. It hit the Gordanian and continued on its path, forcing the wall to give in behind him and allow the blue-green alien to be carried through it.

Nothing would stop the energy's momentum, Trogaar helpless as he was pounded through wall after wall until nothing remained. He continued to sail even as he left his ship until gravity took hold and pulled him down to the ocean below.

* * *

Flicking the blood off his blades, Warblade sneered at the latest alien to fall before him. As enjoyable as this was, he was starting to get a little irritated. Where was that green ankle-biter? Why hadn't anybody found him yet?

"Come in," he barked into his walkie talkie, ignoring how red continued to flash in alarm throughout the alien ship. "Has anybody found Greenie yet?"

" _No._ " That was Goliath.

" _Nothing so far_." Windstorm came in a second later, and not with good news either.

" _I have had the same luck. No sign of him_." Though professional sounding, he could almost hear the gloating in Phobia's voice. Another failure that would cost him everything was on the horizon and she was enjoying every second of it.

But that was three…

"Wanderer? Terra? Come in, both you of you!" Warblade ordered.

The seconds were ticking by and nothing. Not good. Maybe they were both busy? Great, he would have to find them.

Tucking away his walkie, he sped off with all the speed he could muster, quickly scanning down hallways for any sign of either of the girls, as well as that annoying shapeshifter. Along the way, he came across a few of these aliens, and dealt with them accordingly. There was no enjoyment taken as the next one on the chopping block could be him.

Hallway after hallway flew by in a blur, and naturally dead bodies were left in his wake. Desperation was fueling him to find, find, _find_ the green brat and save his skin in the process. He had worked for far too long to become the leader of the Ravagers and to put himself in Brother Blood's good graces. This whole mess had nearly ruined it, and would do so if he returned in failure.

Not an option. No way.

Coming to a T-intersection, Warblade quickly looked right and left, and what do you know, to his left he found something that wasn't ugly aliens. No, smaller, definitely weaker, and what looked like a wall of solid earth ahead. He had found the ankle-biters.

Funny how Terra had yet to answer his calls. And what did he spy but someone green nearby? Even the flashing red light could not hide that skin color.

Thanks to the earlier radio silence, instead of announcing himself, Warblade crept up to the two silently. When necessary, he was more than capable of stealth, and doubly so when Greenie's hearing was added to the mix.

"...touch her! You know she can still kill you!" That was Terra hissing at their missing green boy.

"But she's hurt! We can't leave her here!" the green ankle-biter protested.

What were they talking about?

"Think, Gar! Her skin kills anything that touches it and I doubt that went away," Terra retorted. "There's nothing we can do for her! Now come on!"

There was what sounded like some kind of whine coming from Garfield, as if he was torn on what to do. As Warblade got a better look at the situation due to physically getting closer to it, he figured out pretty quickly what was up.

Oh shit, that was Wanderer. Why was she on the floor? Oh. Oh no. Those were some strange holes in her body and he had been more than sure they weren't there the last time he saw her. Crap, crap, crap, she was one of Blood's favorites. Was she...knowing his recent luck, that's what she was. Goddamn it.

"So Wanderer's down for the count," he grunted, surprising Terra who spun around and stared at him in shock. Greenie looked surprised too, but unlike the blonde girl, his mouth was already flapping.

"She got shot by those laser weapon things! We got to help her!" he cried out, explaining everything.

"Terra's right, there's not much we can do for her. Not without getting ourselves killed," he grunted in answer. "We'll have to leave her."

Terra had donned on a blank look, not expressing how she felt about the decision. Naturally, that was left to her green boy toy. "But isn't she like us? A Ravager? We can't leave her here!""

"Interesting talk coming from an ankle-biter barely wearing anything. We can't help her. If we tried to look for a pulse, that would get us killed. We can't do anything because we don't know how to, and we don't have the time. I doubt these E.T.s are going to let us try."

"But…" Aw, the green baby was trying to argue with him more. Enough of this.

"We came here for you. If you hadn't have come here, Wanderer wouldn't be all but dead. This is your fault," Warblade stated as he walked around Terra and approached his target.

"I...I didn't mean...this wasn't…" Garfield was trying to find some way to excuse his responsibility, but right now, Warblade didn't care.

"Look, I'll make this simple for you," the older, masked Ravager said as he came to the shapeshifter's side. Raising a hand, he brought it down quick, chopping the side of Green's neck and knocking him out. Catching him while being careful of his blades, Warblade threw Garfield over his shoulder like he was a sack of potatoes.

Mission accomplished.

"Come," he ordered Terra as he walked past her. "We're leaving. You and I will have a talk later."

No matter how this ended, he was going to find a way to save his own hide.

* * *

Looking away from the hole from where he had last seen Trogaar, Red Robin turned towards Kori who was taking deep breaths, obviously tired from using so much energy. Yet, the Tamaranian had never looked so alive for as long as the teen vigilante had known her. And...was it him or did it look as if her hair was on fire?

Nah, couldn't be. Probably a trick of the eye.

"That was bad ass!" Cassie congratulated as she came up beside the orange-skinned female. She clapped down an armor-clad hand on Kori's shoulder, a sign of camaraderie.

Instead of pride showing through her expressive face, Kori's forehead furrowed. "What posterior are you speaking of and why is it bad?"

"Um…" Cassie looked to be having a difficult time trying to answer that. "Well...it was...it's just a way of saying you did a good job."

"Oh. But where does a posterior come into it?"

"It...uh, doesn't."

Best to stop this before they went any further. No telling how long they would go around in circles.

"You think he's down for the count? That guy's not going to walk through that hole in the wall and we have to fight him again?" he cut in, bringing up what he believed to be an important point.

Cassie was quick to find out, taking the metaphorical exit he had provided. The armored blonde peered into the hole, going as far as to put her hand over her eyes like a visor. "I'm not sure," she called out. "I think...I think you might have knocked him out of the ship."

"Guess we'll have to look for him," Red Robin said as he reached Cassie's side. All the flashing red made it hard to see but it looked like there were more holes ahead of them, sparks occasionally flickering out in the multiple gaps. "No way we can let that guy stroll around on our planet."

"He might not have survived," Rachel pointed out.

"Good point. But still, we need to be sure." Red Robin paused, then snapped his head over to the side, jumping when he saw that yes, Rachel was right there next to him. When had she gotten there?

"I would think leaving would be a better idea. I highly doubt that whatever forces that remain here would take kindly to our presence. Without their commander here, they may assume the worst and pin it on us, as legitimate as that is. I recommend a strategic retreat," Rachel continued. Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she added, "We just showed up, before you ask."

"We?" the vigilante repeated, eyes looking away from Rachel's cowled head where he found Victor off by himself, looking at the damage they had done to the bridge with interest.

Oh.

"Oh yes, and we lost track of Garfield," Rachel added as an afterthought.

"Wait, you lost track of the guy who knows where she lives?" Red Robin half-demanded, half-asked while thumbing at Cassie. "He's green. And turns into animals. How do you lose sight of someone like that?"

"It's surprisingly easy," Rachel quipped back. "Maybe if we're lucky, the Gordanians caught up to him first and solved our problem."

"You're joking about that, aren't you?" the masked teen asked.

"I don't joke."

"We need to look for him. Try and find him before he finds a way off the ship and goes back to the people who want us dead," Red Robin argued.

"I vote we get out of here before we get any unwanted company. Best not to overstay our welcome," Victor spoke up, making his way over to them. "I wouldn't worry about the Grass Stain right now, and I'll tell you why later. "Let's worry about getting out of here first. I, for one, am tired of having to deal with hostile aliens."

"I can't believe I'm agreeing with him, but I think finding that green menace is too important. Damn it, he knows where I live!" Cassie retorted. Looking over at the irritated blonde, Red Robin noted that some of the intricacies of her armor, such as many of the numerous spikes and the closed off helm, had receded a bit. Now she had less spikes and more of her face was visible.

"Trust me on this one, he ain't gonna get away," Victor told her. "There's a reason why Rachel and I let him leave our sights in the first place. It's a good one, but let's get off the ship. Kori, you don't want to be here any longer than necessary, right?"

"I do not mind pummeling my righteous fury into more Gordanians, if that is what you are implying," the Tamaranian said in what she probably thought was helpful.

"We accomplished what we set out to do. I'm leaving now. You can join if you want," Rachel stated as she began strolling through the hole in the wall in front of them.

"But—!" He watched helplessly as the cloak-wearing girl took the lead and Victor followed after her, apparently not willing to stick around and explain what their source of confidence was. "You're seriously going along with this? We can't leave without Garfield! He knows too much!"

"Is it that difficult to put your trust in us? We have this covered. Come with us or stay here with the Gordanians. It's your choice," Victor told him.

"Those two make no sense to me," Cassie grumbled. "It's not like it's their home on the line."

"What do you want to do?" he turned to her. He was responsible for putting her into this situation in the first place, bringing not only Victor and Rachel, but also Garfield into her home and potentially risking her life in the process. Bet Batman never did something like this before.

"Their certainty is infectious," Kori remarked, coming up to the two of them from behind. "Perhaps we should trust them. I have enough trust that they know what they are doing. Neither have done anything to make me doubt them."

He looked helplessly up at the Tamaranian who showed no signs of distress or uncertainty. She was a source of calm as things seemed to be falling apart right now.

"Also, I have exhausted myself to the point that I do not think a prolonged battle with the rest of Trogaar's army is recommended. Trusting Rachel and Victor is the only option I would consider," Kori continued. "Shall we?"

Red Robin was sharing another look with Cassie, but both seemed to know where this was going. Neither liked it, but from the sounds of running feet in the corridor outside the bridge, they didn't have a lot of time to debate.

Hopefully this was the right decision.

* * *

Guest: There are plenty of updates in the future, so no need to worry about that. The only thing to be worried about is if the story is good or not.


	21. Sacrificial Offering

Sacrificial Offering

With the sight of an alien ship speared through with a giant spike of earth behind them, the remaining Ravagers reached the nearest beach, transported there on a disc of rock. Warblade was eager to set his feet on solid ground. The metal of the alien ship and the questionability of standing on a floating rock was enough for him to be somewhat grateful to be on something not suspended in the air.

At least they had the green ankle-biter, currently held by Goliath because it wasn't the leader's job to carrying around dead weight. Just a perk of the job. A downside was they were down one Ravager, and an important one at that. There weren't many people like Wanderer walking around, so how pissed off Brother Blood was going to be was still up in the air.

He could feel Phobia's look on his back, knowing that he was deep shit. How much remained to be seen. Probably already seeing herself as the new leader.

Overhead, smaller alien ships were zooming towards their damaged mothership. Feh, took them long enough to figure out they were under attack. Then again, it was probably in their best interest that it took so long; had all those aliens been up in that ship, it would've taken longer to complete their mission there.

Because failure couldn't be allowed for the Ravagers; too many had occurred too recently.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm done with Independence Day for one night," he grumbled. "Let's deliver our little friend to Brother Blood and see if we can't get the day off for it."

"The rest of us, perhaps, but you, I'm not so sure," Phobia remarked, purposefully reminding him of his predicament. Or more like refusing to let him ignore it.

"Tell yourself this," he told the stuck-up bitch, "if I'm as fucked as you think I am, I have all the motivation to make sure _you_ don't make it back. What's one less Ravager, hmm? What's the worse they could do, kill me twice?"

That bitch better shut up. Losing two Ravagers would only seal his fate, not keep it in limbo.

"Yo, Warblade!" Windstorm called out, and when had that dumb blond wandered off? The wind manipulator was over by the water, gesturing for him to come over. "Take a look at this!"

What was that idiot doing? Had he already forgotten they were in the middle of something? Still, it would be a short delay in returning. A few more minutes of life as the Ravagers' leader before it was all taken from him, the status of him living still up for grabs. Why not stall a little longer?

Approaching the blond, Warblade got a look at what his lower ranking Ravager was trying to point out to him. Though his grinning mask hid his face, it didn't stop him from raising an eyebrow at the large bulk that had washed up on shore. Weird, what the hell was it?

Holding out the long blades that made up his fingers, the Ravager leader slowly approached the find. Getting a closer look, he picked out features that reminded him of armor he had seen recently. There were a few differences, like a helmet of some kind that reminded him of samurai for some reason.

It didn't take much longer to figure out this was one of the aliens from that ship.

From the way the alien's chest raised and lowered, it was still breathing, meaning still alive. The lack of any other movement said that it was out cold or so exhausted it couldn't do anything. So perfectly helpless. Sure he could kill it and leave. Should be the thing he did.

Yet…

He was down a Ravager but had the prize he was sent out to bring back. But what if he were to bring something else back with him? Say an alien lifeform? What would Brother Blood be able to do with it? It wasn't every day you got to mingle with them. Plus it could be an offering, or something.

"What do you want to do with it?" Windstorm asked, at his side and looking down at this unexpected development.

"I want you to trade with Goliath," Warblade ordered. "Let him handle this big boy. We'll bring both it and the ankle-biter back. Might as well cover our offering for the day."

* * *

If there was one piece of good news, it was that communications leaving the city were restored. All that damage on the ship's bridge had gone a bit above the call of duty. There was also the fact the Gordanians would be here for a bit, seeing as how damaged their ship was what with the large piece of dirt stabbing it.

Someone was going to have to take care of it. Someone with more experience than they did with alien invasions.

Didn't take away from the fact that it was a surreal sight. The group of teens had relocated towards the city marina, surrounded by the boats of those who used them mainly for fun, whether it was for watersports or fishing. It was very quiet out here tonight, for good reason too. Who would want to be in this place when an alien overlord threatened your city with annihilation?

First chance he got, Red Robin was contacting Oracle about this ship, conveniently leaving out his involvement. Odds are she would guess it anyway, but the more important thing was getting this info out to the people who needed to hear about it. Plus it was a bonus to hear some surprise from Oracle instead of the other way around.

With that taken care of, it was back to more immediate concerns. Victor was messing around with his arm, Cassie and Kori were keeping an eye on the Gordanians, and Rachel was standing, and cloak covering her body and making the teen vigilante recall a certain bat-themed hero who pulled that pose off rather well.

Time to get to the issue that was still burning in his mind.

"So what is it you two have that you're not worried about Garfield?" he spoke up loudly, directing attention to the mismatched pair. The absence of the green shapeshifter had not been forgotten yet.

Rachel did not answer, instead looking pointedly at Victor. Victor kept his eyes on his arm, one of his hands pressing on it. Kinda like he was tapping on it. Eventually feeling the eyes of the girl with whom he was hardly separated from, the cybernetic teen finally spoke up.

"I had a feeling something like this would happen. I don't know the Grass Stain enough to trust him with my life, but I do know enough to know that the kid could get himself carried away. You know, a lot of acting before thinking," Victor began his explanation. "So, before we left the house, I put a tracking bug on him. Since he barely wears anything, I hid it in his hair. Unless he gets shaved up there, not likely anyone's going to notice it."

The implications were immediately clear. "You know where he is. Known this whole time," Red Robin stated. "Didn't know you could put tracers on people."

It was a neat idea. Why hadn't he thought of that before as a precaution?

"I hadn't known I could do that until recently." Broad, metal shoulders shrugged. "Ironically, it was because of Garfield I found out about it. Since he was right there at the time, you know, since we had him tied up and all, I used him as a green guinea pig. I wasn't sure that the bug would stay on him when he turned into animals, but it did. I'm following him right now."

"Where is he?" Cassie demanded as she left Kori's side, stalking over to their cyborg comrade.

"Not on the Gordanian's ship," Victor confirmed. "He's off and heading southeast. About a mile away now, but still moving. I'll get a better idea of where he's going once he stops."

"But that doesn't mean we can't catch up with him." Cassie cracked her knuckles, a determined expression on her face. Now that they were out of danger, much of the blonde's armor had, oh, what was the word, receded? She was back to how it normally looked, spikeless and with a lot more exposure of the red clothing she wore under it. Almost like old times.

"How do you propose we do that?" Rachel asked, speaking up for the first time since they arrived at the pier.

"Who's we? I'm planning to go the fastest way I know: flying," Cassie stated.

"And when you catch up with him, then what?" Rachel pressed.

"What else? Drag him back. I'll knock him out first if I have to," the blonde retorted.

The cloaked girl hmmed. "Allow me to tell you this. I've been attempting to track Garfield myself. Ever since I entered his mind, it's given me a way to monitor him. Call it a backup plan in case Victor's bug didn't work. It works best when the person in question is conscious. The only thing right now is that he isn't. Since Victor's bug shows he's still moving, and he's not awake, that tells me that he's with someone else. Someone who is moving him to another location. He's not alone."

"You think his friends, the Ravagers, managed to find him?" Red Robin asked.

"Based on the fact that one of them is able to manipulate the earth," Rachel paused as she sent a pointed look towards the Gordanian's ship, "I firmly believe that they too managed to infiltrate that freighter over there."

"I don't remember running into any of those creeps up in there," Cassie stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

Neither had he, which was both interesting and concerning. Weren't the Ravagers trying to kill them? And what better time and place than during an alien invasion when all attention was on the aliens? Something wasn't adding up here.

"It sounds like we might want to go pay them a visit ourselves," Red Robin said aloud. "Those guys have some fighting skills, they've tried to kill us on more than one occasion, but then ignore us during the best time to do it. I don't know about you guys, but something stinks here."

"What is emitting the odor that disturbs you?" Kori asked.

Red Robin was proud that he hid the wince that was begging to come out. "I don't know, but I want to find out."

"Let me get this straight, you want to go after the guys that want us dead, who work for a guy who, if I remember correctly, calls himself Blood and was the one to send them after us, and what do you want to do exactly?" Cassie butted in.

Yeah, there was the whole Blood investigation that had yet to be finished. "Well, if this Blood wants us dead, I think this would be a good time to show him why that was a bad idea," he replied. "I doubt he's given up already and I don't want to have to be looking over my shoulder all the time for an assassin to try and shank me."

"You want to put the hurt on him," Victor summed up. "Count me in then."

Cassie gave a smirk. "That right, Red?"

The teen vigilante nodded his head, giving confirmation.

"That's speaking my language too. I'm in," the blonde said.

It pretty much went unsaid what her real reason was. If it was anything like her reason to dislike him, then the Ravagers were just as guilty. No one interfered with her burglary hobby, and that was something he was going to have to figure something out about as well. Later, though. Not when she was trying to pound someone else's face in.

"I know not who this Blood is, but I am willing to aid you in this endeavor as you have done so with myself," Kori volunteered. "My freedom from bondage is assured, now I shall pay back that debt by freeing you all from the ill intentions this person has against you."

That was four right there, him included. Red Robin looked over to the only one who had yet to say anything.

"You're surely not expecting one of those come together against a common enemy moments, are you?" Rachel deadpanned.

"Well, we kinda just did that with Trogaar," Red Robin felt the need to point out.

"Well, I am curious about that brainwashing," Rachel remarked. "I suppose I can help out."

He'll take that.

"You still keeping track of Garfield?" he asked, turning back to Victor.

"Still moving," the half-robotic teen confirmed.

Grimly, he announced, "Let's see if we can't catch up with them."

* * *

"I see you've returned."

Warblade squared his shoulders, standing tall as his master's eyes gazed upon him, judging and weighing his worth. In his arms, he held the object of his assignment, still out of it and laying limp in his arms. "The mission was a success. We found Garfield."

Rising from his seated position and moving around the large, grand desk placed between the Ravagers' leader and the older man, Blood strolled over to his teenaged follower, his eyes moving over to the unconscious form of the green shapeshifter. It was just them and Mother Mayhem watching in approval; the other Ravagers remaining outside along with their spontaneous offering.

"Breathing and unharmed?" Blood questioned, never looking away from his prize.

"Knocked out to avoid any resistance he could have put up," Warblade stated.

"More like prevent any talking," Blood replied wryly as he raised a hand, moving green hair away from the unconscious teen's face. A chuckle signaled that he took no offense to this, allowing the masked Ravagers' leader to relax slightly. "Very well done. You've finally begun to atone for your failures."

And with atonement, perhaps mercy? If Brother Blood was in a good mood, that could mean that Warblade could potentially escape any retribution for those failures. Must tread carefully, because one wrong step could ruin it.

Because he was in his thoughts, he didn't notice Blood pause for a moment. "Where's Wanderer? She was with you, was she not?"

And there was the wrong step.

"I regret to report that Wanderer fell. There was nothing we could do for her, without putting other Ravagers at risk," Warblade said, his body filling with a nervous energy.

"I don't understand this. I send you out to retrieve a missing Ravager and while you succeed at that, you lose another? Was I wrong to promote you to your current position? This increase in ineptitude is something I never expected from you of all people." Without warning, Blood was right in front of him, stripping away the glowing, grinning mask that the teen wore. There was an unholy glow in the older man's eyes and it did not bode well for him.

"I don't know how it happened," Warblade said, holding his ground as best as he could. His heart was pounding in his chest.

"Do you know what I went through to obtain Wanderer? A person of her abilities is incredibly difficult to find. Explain to me why you have decided to become incompetent, boy, and do so while you can still speak," Blood hissed, his normally regal face twisted in fury.

Warblade, ever confident and quick to act, swallowed. "To find Garfield, we had to follow him onto an alien ship. Due to its size, I decided it would be best if we split up. I was confident in all of our abilities that these aliens would not stand a chance against us and that we would have no casualties."

"You thought wrong," Blood growled. Still, he pulled away though the older man was glowering. "I have heard of those otherworldly invaders. What was Garfield doing on their ship?"

"I don't know and we weren't able to intercept in time to prevent him from boarding. We had to get...creative to follow after," Warblade said. "It was during our reconnaissance and search of the ship that Wanderer was killed."

"Just like that? A fighter of her skills is slain just like that?" Blood said as he paced around the Ravager, much like a predator sizing up his prey.

"I only saw what happened afterwards; I wasn't' there to see it happen," he claimed. "Both Terra and Garfield were. Both of them could give you the details."

"I reckon they could," was the dry retort. A hand that was anything but comforting placed itself on top of his head. "I'm more interested in what I should do with you. My disappointment with you is growing by the day. First you fail in your original assignment to kill four individuals far below your skill set, then you lose a key asset both to myself and your Ravager team, then an important team member falls in the line of duty under your command. Never would I have ever believed such events could occur with you at the helm; I suppose I was wrong."

Fingertips dug into the teen's forehead and they weren't gentle about it. Warblade said nothing in his defense because all the points mentioned were true. There was no wiggle room for him to use to try and slip his way out of this one. All that awaited him was his punishment, be it demotion or termination.

"I can't defend any of my failures sir, only atone for them," he stated. "As of now, all I can do to achieve that is present to you an offering and hope that it begins to make up for them."

Brother Blood paused. "An offering? Do you believe that such a thing would be acceptable right now?"

"I only ask that you look at it first, then decide," Warblade said.

Another pause, but the slight pressure from Blood's fingers lessened. "Very well. I'll humor you, but it had better not be a waste of my time. So help you if it does because I am not in the mood for anything that is less than spectacular. Mother Mayhem, do relieve Warblade of Garfield."

As Blood removed his hand from the teen's head, Mother Mayhem obeyed their master's "suggestion." The robed woman accepted the bounty that was the green changeling into her arms and moved away, heading towards a door that was not the one Warblade had entered through. Most likely she was going to find a place to dump her load. Though he was skinny as hell, that ankle-biter was anything but light. A real surprise there.

Turning, Warblade headed towards the entrance to Blood's office and opened it, gesturing to the Ravagers outside to come in. Windstorm was the first to swagger in, not in the least bit worried about what had been happening behind closed doors. Phobia strolled in, standing tall and moving in that regal way of hers. It was obvious she was expecting something, most likely a promotion that she felt was hers by right.

Behind her was perhaps the real prize. It seemed that sometime between Warblade making his report to now, the alien they had picked up had woken up. It was restrained by Goliath, naturally, and was glaring with red eyes. Definitely did not look happy. Surprisingly, the alien was bigger than Goliath, if that was possible, so that was a testament to the four-armed Ravager's strength and ability.

"My, my, whatever could this be?" Blood murmured as he approached the alien.

"This is the offering, Brother Blood," Warblade introduced.

"So it is all true," Blood commented, eyeing the captive E.T. "This is very unusual. Tell me, what do you suppose I should do with it...him?"

Why or how Blood was able to tell it was a he went over the lead Ravager's head. Not that it mattered. "I figured that you could figure something out with him. It's not every day someone brings back one of those."

"Impudent worms," the alien growled, causing those not busy doing any kind of, you know, restraining, to jump or put up their guards. "You will answer for this transgression. You will all know what it means to cross me."

"And who might you be?" Blood asked, crossing his arms over a robed chest. "Do enlighten me."

A snort. "I am Trogaar, Leader of the Fourth Battalion of the Gordanian Armed Forces. I am not a mere soldier, I am a Commander! And I command that you release me at once. The longer you hold me against my will, the greater my retribution will be."

"How quaint, an ego," Blood drawled. "And for such a commander, you look beat up to me. Hard time on the battlefield, soldier?"

"You mock me," Trogaar seethed, pulling against the muscled arms that held him back.

"This is an interesting offering if I do say so myself," Blood remarked, speaking not to the alien but to Warblade. "However, what do you expect me to do with it? It's not like I can use its blood for...as I do with all other offerings. I doubt Gordanian blood mixes well with human."

"Do not ignore me!" Trogaar snapped, increasing his struggles but failing to gain his freedom.

Blood raised an eyebrow. "And he doesn't like to be ignored. Well, I can't have him bellowing out at all hours of the day because I have better things to do. That would be annoying." Narrowing his eyes, the robed man leaned closer to their galactic captive. "At least there is one way to shut him up."

Reaching with one hand, Blood pressed two of his fingers against the alien's chin, wiping away a drying liquid that had stained the skin. Obviously, it was the alien's blood, and Blood examined it carefully, including his thumb in his examination as he rolled the sample he had wiped away between his fingers.

"Your arrogance has sealed your fate, human," Trogaar rumbled. "I shall not rest until I grind your skull between my feet and raze your civilization to the ground."

"Is that so? A bold claim," Blood replied as his eyes began to glow, red incidentally and not unlike the alien's natural hue. "But alien blood is still blood. So long as it flows through your veins, you cannot keep _me_ out."

Trogaar stiffened as if something unnaturally had grabbed him. His solid colored eyes widened, as if seeing something no one else was witnessed to. His mouth opened, dropping as if he was screaming but no sounds left those thick lips.

"Perhaps I can find a use for you," Blood concluded, his thinner lips curving upwards.

* * *

Should've known. It couldn't really be that surprising given what he already knew about it. Granted, it was not a lot, but still.

The place in question didn't look like what you would think a group of killers would hide out at. It wasn't dark, or foreboding, or sinister. It was a church, well-lit and with a cross on top of it. On the far side was a parking lot, filled with the cars of the congregation inside. Listen hard enough, and you could hear the sound hymns being sung inside.

Oh yeah, and then there was the sign that boldly stated this was the home of the Church of the Savior and Saint's Blood. It looked like any church you would find in the city, complete with modern architecture and pavement and well-kept lawns. So typical looking that you wouldn't think twice about feeling off-kilter about it.

Maybe that was why it was a perfect place to hide illegal activity. Other than the sign, you would mistake it for a normal, everyday church.

"The bug says in there, right?" Red Robin asked, continuing to observe the Christian-themed complex through a small pair of binoculars.

"It leads there, definitely, but the signal's not as strong. Some kind of interference," Victor reported. "Could be coming from underground for all I know."

That suggested there was more to this place than mere appearance. Keep all the legit stuff on the surface and hide everything underneath it. Still, no proof of that and for all the vigilante knew, everything was up top. Too bad they couldn't do some recon first. Get more of a lay of this place. If they wanted to make sure Garfield didn't spill the beans on Cassie, time wasn't really on their side in this case.

"There is something not right about this place," Rachel stated.

"How do you mean?" he asked, not taking his eyes away from the binoculars.

"I'm sensing...energies around this place. The magical kind," the cloak-wearing girl explained. "Someone is practicing the magical arts in there. It's drowning the whole area in its taint."

So they were going to be dealing with tainted magic then? Well, they had gotten involved with an alien invasion, what was magic to add to this crazy night?

"Anybody else see and detect something?" Red Robin asked the other two, silent members of the group.

"Other than the fact I feel creeped out by being next to the place a cult calls home?" Cassie retorted, fidgeting with unspent energy and needing to work it off.

"I myself am feeling the not good about this place," Kori answered.

Guess they could all agree that none of them liked this location. Alright, time to lay out a general outline of a plan that he was still coming up with.

"Odds are they're probably having some kind of services in there. So long as we stay away from the sanctuary, we should be good. We look around and see if we can't find some secret entrance or passage. If those magical energies Rachel mentioned aren't interfering with the signal from the bug, then there could more under this place," the masked teen plotted out.

"Don't you think it would be a bit conspicuous for people like us to walk right up in there like we own the place?" Victor asked skeptically, looking away from his arm.

"Traffic's dead, no one has entered or exited the place in the last fifteen minutes, and according to the clock, we're at the top of the hour. Unless there's any stragglers, I think most people are going to be worshipping. So long as we're careful, we shouldn't attract any attention, and if we come across anyone, we knock them out and hide them. Simple." He was working on the go here, but he had to say that this didn't sound like too bad of a plan. As long as they weren't spotted or anything, of course.

"Compared to your last plan, that's more reasonable," Cassie commented. "Who wants to go knock?"

Accepting the backhanded compliment, Red Robin put away his binoculars and began walking towards the church. "Actually, I thought more about walking through the front door."

The only sound he could hear was the crunching of grass under his boots. It was painfully loud as his were the only footsteps being made. Yet, he refused to be cowed by conformity. He had come this far, there was no turning back without risking some of his cred.

He was about to reach the stretch of road that separated him from the religious order's property when he heard the others coming up behind him. Oh good, he wasn't going in this alone.

"You sure about the front? Shouldn't we see if there's a back or something?" Victor asked without slowing down.

"How long will that take?" he replied as he began crossing the pavement. "I don't think we have the time to find out. The longer they have Garfield, the worse it'll be for us."

"You are not fearful of this complex's defenses?" Kori asked, being more practical in a way.

As he stepped on the church's lawn, "What you see is the defense. It's to convince you there's nothing happening here other than worship. An illusion that's physical. Most people around here believe what you see is what you get and they don't look any closer. That's what these people are counting on. Now be on your guard."

The front entrance was coming up quick, the door length glass panels allowing any and all to see through them. What could be seen was a carpeted floor, normal everyday furniture like chairs and tables with pamphlets on them, and a poor taste in wallpaper with corkboards nailed into the walls. A typical church interior.

Pushing open the thin double doors, Red Robin took lead as he entered the foyer, eyes looking around for anyone that might see them. Clear so far but that could change. The only sound came from the singing of the congregation deep within this place. Made this seemingly normal place feel kinda eerie, but that could be the Church's reputation in the media amping that.

"Start looking around, see if you can't find some kind of secret passage or entrance," he said in a hushed voice, making his way towards the nearest hallway. Looking down it, it was short with three doorways, one on the left, one on the right, and one dead ahead. All were closed but that didn't necessarily mean locked.

Turns out the one straight ahead was locked, but the other two weren't. Nothing much to report with those two. A closet and a choir room. Typical church stuff. A little help from Rachel unlocked the locked door, but that was to some office that was unnaturally clean. Seriously, way too boring to be part of a controversial organization like this one. However, nothing like a hidden door or passage could be found.

It didn't take long for them to regroup in the foyer and confirmed that they had found nothing. If it wasn't for the signal that Victor said he was still getting, there would have been a lot of doubt voiced about being here.

"So what now?" Cassie asked, her irritation audible.

"There's only one place we haven't checked," Red Robin answered, looking towards a wall in which three sets of double doors were located, all shut. There was no question where those led to: the sanctuary. With all the people on the other side, singing obliviously to the booming pipes of an organ. With all the cars outside, it had to be packed in there.

Looking to Victor, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to have infrared or heat vision, would you?"

Instead of immediately answering, Victor's human eye seemed to glaze over for a sec. Then, "I do. And I know what you want." For a moment, the cyborg stared at the wall with the three double doors, obviously peering through it and at whoever could be in there. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Cassie asked, her alertness going up a notch.

"There's nobody in there. My heat sensors are not picking anything up," Victor stated.

"And all those cars out there...and I can hear what should be a packed room...something stinks," Red Robin muttered, though not quietly enough.

"Again you mention the foul odor. I do not smell anything offensive to my olfactory sense, but I believe there is something not normal about this situation," Kori spoke, her body language screaming that she was on edge.

Just let it go. You can try and educated her about figures of speech later. "We've looked everywhere else. Let's check that room out and see what we can find." Reaching to his belt, he pulled out one of his last—sigh—birdarangs, the non-explosion type. He would save what he had left of those for later.

Stalking towards the nearest set of doors, Red Robin took a deep breath, psyching himself up, before pushing on the wooden surface. He didn't shove it open, instead pushing carefully so that the door opened slowly. Peering through the small gap, the teen vigilante tried to see if he couldn't see what was on the other side. You know, just in case.

He caught sight of a row of empty pews and yet continued to hear that constant singing and organ playing. The creepiness factor of this place was really going up here. Pushing the door open some more, he paused and waited for something, anything to happen. Again nothing.

Finally, he opened the door all the way and stepped into the church's sanctuary, throwing projectile at the ready. Other than row after row of empty pews, there was no one here. The church's sound system was playing, multiple speakers booming what was obviously a recording of typical church activities. Other than that, everything looked like it was ready for people to come in and sit down, get ready to feel some of that holy spirit and everything.

"There has to be someone in here. That parking lot's packed," Red Robin said at last as he ventured further into the sanctuary. Plus, playing a recording of people worshiping didn't make sense to him.

"I don't like this," Cassie agreed as she followed him in. "Lights are on and everything. Kinda a waste of electricity if you ask me."

"Scanners are still not picking up anything," Victor reported.

All which added up to none of this making any sense. Seriously, he, they, were ready for a fight and here there was nothing to fight with.

Then the sound system shut off abruptly, filling the sanctuary with deafening silence.

"We shed our lives."

The voice echoed throughout the empty room, surprising the vigilante. Red Robin spun around, searching for where it came from. There _was_ someone in here, someone that Victor's scanners hadn't picked up somehow, but where? Guards were up as five pairs of eye looked around and around.

Standing between two empty pews, there stood a gaunt-looking man, huge bags under his eyes, and loose white robes covering his body. The sleeves were so long, you couldn't see his hands. In some ways, it was like looking at a child trying to wear his parents' clothes, except this was an adult wearing robes several sizes too large for him.

"Where did he come from!" Victor exclaimed. A second later, "My scans aren't picking anything up!"

"We shed our flesh," the robed man voiced toneless as he shuffled his way closer to the group of teens.

"Who here isn't creeped out by this guy?" Cassie asked.

"Where's your boss?" Red Robin called out to this creepy, robed man. Every step brought this person closer to them and more and more details could be made out. Like the eyes, so dark and empty…

"We shed our blood for him," the robed man continued. Slipping out from a sleeve, a long, thin blade revealed itself, the sanctuary's lighting reflecting off the metal surface.

"Okay, definitely not friendly," Cassie stated.

"He appears to be a foe," Kori remarked.

"Something's wrong with him. I'm picking up...something. I don't know what," Rachel said.

"Disarm him, try to not knock him out. We need answers," Red Robin planned out.

"We shed our lives."

That sounded like...behind! Looking over his shoulder, Red Robin's eyes widened behind his mask. Appearing in the doorway behind them were three more robed people, two men and a woman. All looked as bad as the man with the blade.

"We shed our flesh."

The far end of the sanctuary, several more robed individuals were entering through another entrance, their eyes trained on the teens.

"Where the hell are they coming from!" Victor demanded, his arms transforming into a cannon.

"Take them down quick, before they overwhelm us!" Red Robin shouted as he changed the battle plan.

"We shed our blood for him."


	22. In the Bowels of Gaia

In The Bowels of Gaia

Everything was...fuzzy. Yeah, real fuzzy. How his body felt, what he saw as he cracked open his eyes, the voices that seemed to talking a thousand miles away, everything. How hard had that truck hit him and what was its license plate? Someone needed to teach that guy how to drive.

As the fuzziness in his head began to go away, Garfield began to notice little things that he hadn't before. For one thing, he didn't really recognize where he was. It was like a cave, but it was all red. There were smooth areas like stairs and a platform, but there were also those spike things that stuck out of the ground and the ceiling, like in caves. There was lighting in here, but where the source was couldn't be found quickly.

Then other details became known to him. One detail was that his feet were dangling off the floor, meaning something was holding him up in the air. Another detail was that beneath him was what looked like a pool. It was a pool that was red in color too and for some reason, he didn't think that was water. Didn't know why he felt that way.

Oh, and now that he was getting his bearings, he noticed that he wasn't alone either. There were these three weird-looking ladies who wore some weird-looking robe things and some weird-looking...things on their heads. Oh hey, that one had an afro, how seventies. But what the hell was that one wearing on her face? Didn't look right.

Huh, his arms were stretched out from his body. And something was holding onto it. Hold up, was he being tied up again? Hadn't he already done that before? Well, he had no idea what was going on here, but he wasn't planning on sticking around. This whole thing was screaming "not good!" at him, and he was going to trust his instincts on this one—

Ow. _OW_! What the _hell_ , man! Garfield had tried to change into an animal, preferably something that could fly, but once again, he was being prevented from doing so. What was up with all these people stopping him from doing the one thing he was good at doing? Seriously!

"It seems young Garfield has awoken, and sooner than anticipated," the lady with the afro commented. Sounded like she was talking about the weather, she was that concerned. Get some acting classes and try to sound like you were worried, alright?

"It does not change anything," a commanding voice stated. "Get back to work."

Wait, he knew that voice! Brother Blood! Oh man, now he knew he was in good hands. He was back! Huh? What was he wearing? Those weren't the robes he usually wore.

This was a huge wardrobe change up. Instead of the whites and reds that loosely hung around the older man, there was now something very tight-fitting that revealed that Brother Blood was packing on some muscle. Couldn't really dig the color scheme as the arms were blue and ended with what looked like claws, the legs were red with black boots, and the torso was yellow and showed off some impressive pecs and abs.

The cape looked cool, though. High collared, and black...or was it dark red? No, the inside of the cape was black, but the outside was that dark red color. That made some sense.

However, what the hell was he wearing on his head? Looked like some kind of dragon skull that had six, curved horns sticking out of it. The top two were the biggest and longest while the middle were small and almost hidden by the bottom two. Only Brother Blood's face could be seen in the get up and it was as regal as ever.

"Brother Blood," Garfield croaked out—hold on, was that _his_ voice? Wow, how long had he been out? "What's…?

"You needn't concern yourself, young Garfield. You are on the cusp of fulfilling your destiny and helping me to claim mine," Brother Blood said as he placed himself in front of the green teen.

"I...what? I don't...understand." None of what Brother Blood had said made any sense, but maybe that was because of all the big words. Kinda went over his head, not that he would ever admit that.

"There's no need for you to understand, just remain where you are while the Sisters here finish preparations," Brother Blood replied flippantly. "You'll need your strength, is what they told me. So relax, get as comfortable as you can. When we begin, you might feel very...unpleasant."

Okay, he was so not likely how this sounded. "Um, why do I have to be hanging here? And why can't I, you know, change myself? What is happening?"

"You're awfully chatty today, not that that isn't any different. But I suppose I have time to kill." Brother Blood paused as he watched something happening behind the green shapeshifter. "I'll say this in the most simple way I can. You're hanging where you are because a, that's where you need to be, and b, so that you don't get away. I haven't gone through the trouble of losing a valuable Ravager just so you can disappear on me.

"Which is also the same reason why I am currently repressing your shapeshifting abilities right now. So that you don't become something really small and leave. A precaution, nothing more. As for what is happening, nothing much. Only a ritual that will give me access to power unimaginable. All the reason in the world for me not to lose you again."

What was it with people taking away his powers? It was really, _really_ getting annoying. What was he, a damsel in distress now? And since when could Brother Blood do that? If he could have done it the whole time...this still wasn't making any sense!

"I still don't get this," Garfield spoke.

"I don't expect you to," Brother Blood quipped as he drew closer to the green teen. The older man's face was barely a foot away, but the intense expression was something else. "It's funny, now that I think about it. My key to the Red takes the form of a boy who is green. In hindsight, your ability to take the shape of any and all animals should have been a dead giveaway."

"The Red? What's that?" Another thing that made no sense, though the sad part was there weren't any big words that time.

Brother Blood looked over a green shoulder for a moment before answering. "The Red, my boy, is one of a number of energy fields that make up existence. The Red in particular is the one that is connected to all animal lifeforms, from creatures as complex as humans to simple organisms like bacteria. For years I have sought it out, for the person who can claim it, master it, and dominate it will have control over every living creature in existence. For the longest time, I had believed that to only include life on this planet. Thanks to recent events, I am now aware of extraterrestrial life, of which are also linked into the Red.

"It has been a long search, but today, as the stars and planets reach their proper positions, my time is now at hand. All living things that make up existence will be at my beck and call, and the flood of blood that will follow will be too delicious to pass up. As the future reveals more and more possibilities, the true magnitude of the power I will claim only grows."

"But why me? I still don't get that part. I mean, I don't have any keys on me!" Never before had he heard Brother Blood like this and the stuff about blood and all didn't sound like a good thing.

"Why do you think you can change into any animal even though you have never personally seen any of them?" Brother Blood asked instead of answering. "It is because you are tapped directly into the Red. How or why, I don't know. Why your skin is green when it should be red is also a mystery to me, but not one I am in any hurry to solve. With an avatar of the Red and the blood rituals of my organization, I will soon be able to enter the Red itself. For your sacrifice, I thank you in advance."

" _Sacrifice!_ " Garfield squeaked. "I don't think I like this! Let me go!"

"But I already told you, I don't want you leaving me again," Brother Blood said, grinning like a bad guy would. "Think of it this way, it will be the greatest offering you've ever given to me. One so great, I will never ask of another from you again."

"But! But, but, but, you...you saved me! Why are you… Please! I don't…!"

"Saved you? Oh yes, that. Let me let you in on a little secret." Brother Blood moved forward and to a side. Next to a pointed ear, the man whispered, "I lied."

Green eyes widened, not able to fully grasp the words. "What? Lied? But! You!"

Pulling away, Brother Blood continued, "That was just something to make you compliant, and it worked. I never 'saved' you from anything. Like a farm animal or a pet, I _bought_ you. You're nothing but property to me, nothing more, and nothing less." Blood gave a sigh. "I have been dying to say that for so long. Very cathartic."

No. No. No, no, no. No, this wasn't happening, wasn't real. It couldn't be. He couldn't have been sold like a veggie burger. It was...that was so wrong on so many levels. No. Just...no!

"Sisters, are we ready yet?" Brother Blood called out to the freaky trio of ladies, walking around the devastated changeling. "It's time to get this show on the road. I've waited too long as it is."

Whatever was said next, Garfield paid no attention to it. He couldn't accept what he was just told, he couldn't! It was all wrong, had to be! Why would...why would Brother Blood, the man who had saved him from...from...what had he saved him from again? Why couldn't he remember? Come on, you knew this! You had to know this! It was why this was your home! What had he been saved from, just remember!

But he couldn't. There was no answer available. No matter how many times he asked himself this question, the answer never appeared, even magically! So, so if...so if what Brother Blood said was the truth...and that he hadn't been saved…

 _Someone placed a block on you, only not like myself with your powers. Instead, on your own memories. Who do you think could have done that?_

Echoing accusingly from his memories, the words of Rachel returned to him. The heated argument over his loyalty to the man whom he had believed he owed everything to was like a physical blow, vengeance for doubting that goth girl's reasoning, however she did that. But wait, she hadn't been the only one with doubts.

Terra! Terra who had been wanting to leave this place, to leave Brother Blood, and she had been trying to convince him to do the same. Oh Terra, why hadn't he listened to her when he had the chance? At least she had been nicer when she had tried to tell him.

Garfield lowered his head, eyes trained on the ground as his body slumped. The only thing that held him up was whatever it was that was restraining his arms over his head. Helpless, powerless, and it was all his own fault for ignoring everything that didn't mesh with what he believed.

Because if the truth was he hadn't been saved, that his memories were blocked or whatever, and that his purpose here was...was something that he himself had never questioned before but was now realizing then perhaps it was not as grand or noble as he had been led to believe…

...then who was he?

He barely heard the voice of Mother Mayhem speaking. "Brother Blood, intruders have entered our sanctum. Members of our flock have risen to our defense. What are your orders?"

"Figures. Stall. All I need to do is complete this ritual and open the portal. Send out all my disciples, throw in the Ravagers while you're at it. Keep them from here as long as possible. When I have everything that the Red has to offer, you will know, and this trespass will mean nothing. Now go."

"As you wish, Brother."

A hand cupped his chin and raised it up, dead green eyes staring blankly at the man who had reentered his sight. "It seems that someone wants to crash the party, Garfield. We'll have to start sooner rather than later. Now, this may hurt."

The gleam of a ceremonial dagger caught the green shapeshifter's attention, but instead of feeling any fear or terror, Garfield felt nothing. What did it matter anymore?

Brother Blood chuckled. "That's a good boy, compliant. As a reward, you have my permission to scream."

* * *

Red Robin had been expecting a fight, so it could not be said that he was caught by surprise about it. This time around, the enemy was someone he was more familiar with facing, i.e. armed humans without any special kind of abilities whatsoever. No superpowers, or enchanted armor, or alien lifeforms. The only thing to worry about were standard weapons like knives and daggers.

"We shed our lives."

So using his body like a torpedo, his feet striking the chest of a worshiper, and using the guy as a jump pad to glide about the room thanks to his glider cape was well within his skills. Almost felt like old times.

The different kind of cape he was using was much different than what he had used back in Gotham, but thanks to being able to run electric current through it, he was able to pull off more attacks with it.

"We shed our flesh."

For example, shutting off the current sent him plummeting through the air, but this was a familiar act as he landed on an armed worshiper, knocking the robed man to the floor and following up with a punch to the face to knock him out. Keeping crouched on the floor, he swung a leg out and swiped another worshipper off his feet.

Acting quickly, the masked teen caught a woman by her arms, the female worshiper attempting to gore him with a wicked-looking dagger. Letting himself fall backwards, he stuck a foot into the robed woman's stomach and pulled, bringing her over him then kicking her off and past him. She went flying through the air briefly, coming to a stop as she landed on the worshiper he had tripped mere seconds ago.

"We shed our blood for him."

Oh yeah, and all the horrible-looking people kept chanting those same lines over and over again. Very creepy and unnerving.

To the far side of the room, the young vigilante noticed how Cassie had picked up a robed worshiper and slammed them on a pew, using enough force to break the piece of furniture in half. Over there, Victor was decking anyone who got too close to him, ignoring all the bladed weapons that were slashing and stabbing at him. Kori, meanwhile, was taking the time to disarm her foes, using some neat looking moves to throw, toss, or smack away anybody trying to attack her. Lastly, Rachel was holding out a hand and forming a small black shield of magic to block all attacks coming at her and sending small bursts to knock her opponents away.

All in all, nobody was breaking a sweat yet.

"We shed our lives."

Running electric current through his cape once more, he brought half of the hardened surface up as a shield to block the knife that was stabbing at him. Spinning on his heel, he swung his other arm out and batting away this latest attacker the other half of his cape. Bringing his arms down, he launched himself up into the air and made a backflip, a reminder of his old crimefighting partner, and let gravity bring him back down to land on the shoulders of another attacking worshipper, the teen's weight more than enough to crumple the robed man under him.

"We shed our flesh."

It was obvious these people weren't fighters. The only thing going for them was numbers. The weird thing, though, was that no matter how many of these cultists were taken down, the number the group of teens had to fight never decreased. There were no more entering the sanctuary, so why was it that they were still fighting?

By chance, Red Robin noticed how a worshiper who had been hit and thrown across the room only to smash into the dais at the front was picking himself up, looking no worse for wear. Like some kind of zombie, the worshiper shambled over to the nearest teen, Rachel in the case, but was dealt with without any heed paid to him. The vigilante gave a wince as the robed man was hit with a swipe of black magic and thrown across the room, hitting the wall directly above one of the exits and falling to the floor in a heap.

That definitely had to hurt.

"We shed our blood for him."

Seriously, these people needed better lines.

Noting how a worshiper had torn a leg off a small table and was charging at Victor, Red Robin decided that this was a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. As a robed worshiper came at the masked teen, Red Robin simultaneously ducked and cut off the current running through his cape Bringing his arms back, he rammed both of his elbows into a gut, reached up and grabbed some holy cloth, then pulled down, throwing the attacker over his shoulder and onto the floor.

"Accidentally" kicking the man's head, the vigilante reactivated the electric current as he jumped onto a pew and from there leapt into a glide. Keeping up in the air for a second, he dive-bombed at the last second, swinging a foot down and axe-kicking the table leg wielding worshiper in the upper back, knocking him down.

"We shed our lives."

Reaching Victor's side, Red Robin called out, "Your scanners picking anything up?"

"Hold on a sec," Victor replied as he caught a worshiper jumping at him and used the poor guy's own momentum to throw him halfway across the sanctuary. "Let me take a look," the cyborg said immediately after. Red Robin took it upon himself to watch his ally's back, dealing with two robed worshippers who tried to double team him.

Each grabbed him by an arm and pushed him back. Going along with it, Red Robin stretched his legs back and met with the flat surface of an adjacent wall. Pushing his legs against the surface, he flipped over the two worshipers and brought his elbows back, hitting the two in the backs of their heads and smashing their faces into the wall.

"I'm still not picking up anything, and I'm seeing these people with both my eyes," Victor yelled towards him.

"We shed our flesh."

Noticing how the man Victor had thrown not three seconds ago was picking himself back up, the vigilante came up with a theory. "I think we're still fighting the same people. Nobody new is coming in but we're still fighting. Something's not right with these people."

"Are you only now noticing that?" Rachel spoke up, surprising and scaring him. Without missing a beat, "I've detected some odd spells on their persons; it has the same feel as the kind I felt in Garfield's head. These people are ensorcelled. Some kind of power is keeping them from being incapacitated."

"They're going to try and tired us out first," Red Robin concluded. "We need an out, fast."

"Question, are they human?" Victor asked, looking at the cloak-wearing girl whose cloak was thrown out again, becoming a cape.

"With the amount of spells weaved into them, no," Rachel answered.

"We shed our blood for him."

"Then I got an out," the cybernetic teen quipped as he changed his arm into that energy cannon of his. He fired a blast as the nearest attackers, their mindless goons' survival instincts surprisingly kicking in and causing them to move out of the wave. The energy attack ended up hitting the church's organ, destroying the instrument with a loud crack of wood and ivory.

"Ooh, I bet that wasn't cheap," Victor winced.

"What did that organ ever do to you?" Rachel agreed.

Red Robin hoped that there wasn't a "you break it, you buy it" policy around here. However, he noticed something off about the organ, or remained of it. Specifically how some of it had disappeared and not because of that firepower from the resident cyborg. Some seemed to have fallen out of sight, which shouldn't make any sense. Unless…

Without warning, a vortex of wind blasted out from the wreckage of the organ, destroying what was left of it. Emerging from the floor was that blond-haired Ravager, one of the ones that had attacked at the basketball court. The new arrival held himself up in the air, wind rushing about the room with the potential to rip everything apart.

At least here was confirmation that they were in the right place.

"Oh, I've been waiting to this," the blond Ravager taunted, his eyes trained on Victor and Rachel.

"That guy again?" Victor groaned. Aiming his arm cannon at the aggressive blond, he muttered to himself, "Got a few more tricks this time."

"He came out from under the floor," Red Robin said immediately. "They do have something under this place!"

"And you won't be able to see it!" the blond Ravager declared as he fired a whirling funnel of wind in the vigilante's direction. Pews were torn apart and worshipers toss about like ragdolls with no care or mercy given to them.

Victor put himself in front of both him and Rachel, acting like a shield so that the two of them weren't bearing the brunt of the attack. The end of the funnel struck the teen cyborg and carried him off his feet, forcing the two teens behind him to duck.

"That didn't work out well," Rachel commented.

"We need to get underneath him," Red Robin told her.

"I got you now!" the Ravager cried out triumphantly, forming a large ball of wind in one hand and readying himself to throw it.

A loop of rope wrapped around his wrist, and barely a second later, he was pulled to a side, spun around, then slammed into a wall, going through it and leaving a large hole in his wake. Armored hands holding the end of the rope, Cassie took up position in front of the hole and yelled, "You guys go ahead, I'll take care of this!"

Any number of responses passed through the vigilante's mind. "Are you sure?" "No way." "We need to stick together." "I'll help." "This isn't the time for heroics." Those were the big ones, but none of them passed through his lips.

Because this was Cassie who was always sure of herself. Who was strong. Who stood her ground and didn't budge no matter how annoying it was. More importantly, she knew how to take care of herself.

So he said, "Catch up as soon as you can."

Then he spearheaded the assault into the underground church.

* * *

Somebody was here. Somebody was intruding and making a racket on the higher levels. The order had come in to eliminate the threat and everyone was included. Both Ravager and cultist alike were being mobilized for whatever reason.

Terra kept herself apart from all of it. She had other ideas. Currently, she kept herself away from all the activity, a hand pressed to her head and rubbing the forehead area. The humming was coming back, and this was not a good time for it. She had found so far that using her power over the earth could dull it out, so this should be the best opportunity to do so.

But she had had enough. She no longer wanted any part of this place's insanity. Yes, she had told herself that before, had mentioned it to Gar several times only to be stupidly convinced to remain here. Except there was this energy going around, especially with Brother Blood.

That outburst when the religious leader attacked Warblade and the mentions of things the blonde geokinetic knew nothing about had been confirmation that something stank in this place. Too bad her warnings to Gar to get out fell on deaf ears. Blood now had the green shapeshifter and who knew what that lunatic wanted with him.

And yet Terra had stayed. She had returned with the other Ravagers to hand over the only person she had any kind of relationship to. Why she hadn't acted before, rebelled when she had the chance, she did not know. Perhaps it was because Blood had some hold over her? A hold that she was becoming more and more aware of as the older man's mask of charitableness began to dissolve?

That was the best way she could describe it. No matter how much she wanted to leave, something always held her back. For a while, she had thought that perhaps it was her attachment to Gar. The guy was like a puppy at times, and who could honestly hate a puppy? Now, though, she was thinking it was something else.

The way Warblade was helpless before Blood during that meltdown had been a huge clue. Normally, the leader was so quick, untouchable, and always, _always_ an asshole as he dominated you. There really was a good reason why he was named the leader of this elite group. So to see him so helpless was a bit of an eye opener.

Despite it all, in the end, Terra really wasn't that brave. At least, not enough to take a stand. To make known what she thought and felt. Maybe it was because she knew her surroundings well enough to know that doing such a thing was not a good idea. Independent thought was not something that was encouraged. Oppressed was another word for it.

And Blood had his ways of "changing your mind."

Which led her to this moment right here. Everybody in this place, you could argue, was right where Blood wanted them. Whoever was making a lot of noise had a good chance of not being susceptible to whatever power Blood had. It could end up being her ticket to walking the walk and not simply talking about it.

The pattering of footsteps as they drew nearer told Terra that someone was closing in on her. That some of those footsteps sounded like metal revealed the unlikelihood of it being cultists or other Ravagers. Placing herself in the middle of the corridor in which she found herself in, the blonde waited until a certain familiar group of teens came into view.

There were four of them, three of whom she recognized as being some of the original targets the Ravagers had been sent out to kill. The last one was vaguely familiar, not that that mattered any. The intruding four came to a stop several feet away, watching her warily.

"Why am I not surprised it's you people," Terra said dryly.

"And you are a Ravager, yes?" the orange-skinned stranger replied.

"Depends on who you ask. If you believe I'm going to stand here and fight you, then no, that's not what I'm going to do," she said.

"If you're not going to fight us, then what are you doing standing in the way?" the robot-looking guy demanded.

"To ask you for help," Terra answered, bracing herself for any disbelief.

She wasn't disappointed. "You were one of the ones that tried to kill us before. The one who manipulates earth." Who was saying...oh, the girl whom she double-teamed with Windstorm back at that basketball court. "Why should we believe that you've had a change of heart?"

The geokinetic had been ready for the suspicion, but that didn't mean she wasn't annoyed by it. Time was not one of those things any of them had in abundance, see. "You're friends with Gar, aren't you?" she said instead.

"You know Gar?" the orange skinned newcomer asked, perking up.

"He's in trouble," Terra continued, nodding her head. "Brother Blood, he's up to something. Something that involves something called the Red and somehow Gar has a key or maybe is a key for it. Believe me when I say I don't trust him. And whatever he's planning, I don't think it's in Gar's best interest to be anywhere near him. So I'm asking for you to help him. Save him. Do whatever it is you people do that makes Blood want you dead."

"O...kay," the guy with the domino mask said slowly, eyeing her in confusion. "You...want us to mess up your boss's plan? I don't understand half the things you said, sorry."

"If I understood them better, I would have explained them better. But I don't, so tough. So what do you people want to do? I can show you where you need to go, but beyond that, you're on your own."

The guy in the domino mask looked at the others with him. "Think we can trust her?"

"I wouldn't," the dark, cloak/cape wearing girl stated.

"She seems concerned about Gar. I advise we accept her offer of aid," orange-skinned newbie said.

"It's not like I have a blueprint of this place on hand. We could do worse unless she's leading us into a trap," robot guy answered.

"Then we'll be careful," the mask-wearing guy who Terra figured was the designated hero here concluded. To her, he said, "Show us the way."

About time. Who knew how long they—

Movement behind the four intruders caught her eye. That she could see a head towering over the group of four narrowed down who it was that had come across them. To be honest, it was more preferable for it to be a cultist, however in this case, it was much worse.

Her hand was enveloped in a yellow light, and punched it to her left. In response, a column of earth burst through the wall and slammed the stealthy Ravager into the opposite wall. The act startled the group of her potential allies into spinning around to see what was behind them.

With his immense strength, Goliath tore himself out of his proverbial rock and hard place position, his four eyes glowering at her accusingly.

Looks like she had crossed her point of no return now.

"I'll handle this guy," the robot guy told the other three after speaking a swear lowly. "You guys go with her. You know the spiel."

"You can handle this guy?" the masked, costume guy asked, looking like he was thinking about sticking around himself.

"Got a bunch more tricks to use this time. I'll be fine," robot guy assured. "Now find that grass stain. I still gotta kick his butt myself and show him who has the highest score."

A heartbeat of eye contact, like the two were communicating silently passed before mask-wearing guy nodded his head. "Be quick, alright?"

"Got it," robot guy nodded and turned back to Goliath, taking a position between the four-armed Ravager and the rest of them.

With that probably emotion-filled moment over with, Terra took the lead, dashing down the hallway and hoping that the other intruders were following after her. Now that Terra was committed, there was going to be no going back for her.

* * *

Rachel didn't trust this volunteer of theirs. The last time she had encountered this blonde-haired guide, she had been trying to kill them, specifically her. More focused on fighting the wind manipulator and dodging the rocks and boulders thrown at her, the dark-haired girl had not gotten a real good look at this turncoat.

The fact that the blonde had used her power and moved the earth to attack her former ally had confirmed her identity from before. Was she leading them into a trap? For her sake, this Ravager better hope she wasn't.

Rachel did not tolerate that kind of deception.

So what was this person's motives? The real ones? It was implied that this girl's reasons was because of Garfield and that she cared about him. Enough that she was willing to betray the man she worked for. In her opinion, that was not strong enough a motive.

Nonetheless, Rachel followed after this unexpected guide, choosing to levitate herself and not expend too much of her physical energy. Koriand'r and Red Robin had selected to stay on their feet and follow on foot, and that was their choice. Whether they were as careful as herself remained to be seen, but she had her doubts about that too. Koriand'r by her nature was trusting and by the fact Red Robin was using an alias revealed he didn't trust a lot of people himself.

That combination of trustiness and distrust was going to be interesting if they ended up butting heads at some point.

The blonde girl took a right, coming to a stop soon after. Up ahead was a passing group of the church's worshipers. They hadn't been noticed yet, but if anyone of these strange, robed people happened to look behind them…

Recalling how frustrating it was to fight these cultists with them always somehow picking themselves up no matter how much damage they took, Rachel forcefully repressed a groan welling up in her throat. Oh, there was that chant they kept saying. "We shed our lives. We shed our flesh. We shed our blood for him." Getting on her nerves.

As if sensing them, one of the robed worshippers looked over their shoulder and spotted them. As if the group ahead had a hive mind, they all stopped and turned around. "We shed our—"

" _Azarath Metrion Zinthos!_ "

She spoke the incantation rapidly, using a stronger than usual spell to blast down the hallway and knock the would-be obstacles ahead out of the way. From her peripheral vision, she noted how their guide had ducked quickly to avoid being caught in the spell's path.

"Watch where you're shooting!" the blonde spat at her, adding an indignant glare.

Rachel was not fazed. "I prefer not to get into a battle of attrition down here, and it seems upping the strength of my spells is knocking them out longer. Let's not stick around for them to get up; show us the way."

"You have a real funny way of showing gratitude for people trying to help you," the blonde earth manipulator huffed. Nonetheless, their guide was back on her feet and charging ahead, so that was points in her favor.

"Be a bit more careful. She's the only one here who knows the way around this place," Red Robin admonished.

"Then protect her yourself. We can't take these enemies lightly," Rachel retorted as she began following after the girl.

She was not here to hold anyone's hand or to baby them. There were more pressing matters, such as what this Brother Blood wanted with the Red. She herself knew nothing about it or what it was. Knowing about Blood's use of mystical forces and that they most likely required blood meant that none of what he was up to boded well.

Ignorance of what they may be up against could be an advantage here. Specifically, ignorance of what could happen should Blood succeed at whatever ritual or spell he was trying to cast that required Garfield.

Down a left and continuing straight, Rachel was able to keep an eye on their guide as she led them deeper into the underground complex. Taking a second to observe their surroundings, she noted how they were surrounded by the earth itself; the hallway was more like a man made tunnel carved into the rock almost unnaturally. The walls were much too flat yet showed no signs of manufactured support. A marvel of architecture that was not within the capabilities of your average architect.

How much magic was needed to make it all?

Another turn led to another stop. Almost running into the blonde-haired girl, Rachel managed to stop herself in time. Due to the sudden halt, there had to be another obstacle that had decided to interrupt their progress.

"My, my, isn't that a shame. Running from the enemy, Terra? I didn't think you one afflicted with cowardice."

Standing in the middle of the hallway, hands placed haughtily on her hips was a woman in green and black garb. Most eye catching about her was the high collar that accessorized the green cape she wore. Rachel recognized her; this was the person that had attacked Victor psychically. Now that she was closer to this flamboyantly dressed adversary, she could see the details she had missed due to distance. Were those eyebrows drawn on because there was no way they could be styled that way naturally.

"Phobia," the newly named Terra groaned under her breath. "Why'd it have to be her?"

Interesting name and perhaps a big giveaway.

"It is becoming apparent that the standards for the Ravagers is dropping. No matter, once I eliminate these pests, I shall earn my right to leadership," Phobia boasted, "and there will be some changes."

And here was an egomaniac who was nice enough to monologue her own arrogance.

"Is there another way to wherever Blood is?" Rachel demanded of Terra. The geokinetic stiffened, but then nodded her head. "Lead the others. I'll make sure she doesn't follow."

"We should stick together. We're already stretching ourselves too thin," Red Robin argued.

"I've seen enough of what she can do. I have some ideas on how to handle her. You'll be a liability if you remain," she retorted. "If you can trust our other allies to handle those other Ravagers, you can trust me to handle this one. Now go before the choice is taken from us."

Red Robin didn't look happy with her argument, but it didn't seem like he was quick enough to aid his side of it. Koriand'r, however, took the initiative to prevent it from needlessly dragging on.

"May your victory be swift so that you return to our side with all haste," the Tamaranian declared, a glowing sign of confidence if the young sorceress had heard one. Taking both Red Robin and Terra by their shoulders, the alien exile dragged them back and out of sight, leaving her to deal with this Phobia.

"Your friends are correct to flee, young one," Phobia taunted, tilting her head up snobbishly. "If you had any sense, you would join them."

"I'm not the one who attacks others when they are distracted. Let's see how well you handle an opponent attacking you head on," Rachel retorted as she began gathering her magicks.

"Do not think you know what I'm capable of," Phobia replied, showing no signs of offense. "You do not know how _terrifying_ I can be."

Rachel allowed a small smirk to appear on her face. "I have seen a lot of terrifying things. I'm more curious to know how badly you'll fail."

Arrogance finally became offense. "You will regret that challenge."

As black magic formed around her hands, she quipped, "And you will regret accepting it."

* * *

Author's Note: If the concept of the Red is still confusing you, I shall take the time to explain using another DC Superhero: Swamp Thing. Yeah, that plant guy who talks about the Green all the time. According to him, the Green is what connects all plant life and allows Swamp Thing to control it. The Red would be the Green's opposite, only with animals. Heroes like Beast Boy and Animal Man are said to be tapping into the Red whenever they shapeshift, much like how Swamp Thing does with the Green when using plantlife to beat up bad guys. Hopefully that simplifies things, and shows just how serious this situation really is.


	23. Ravaging Anemoi and Deimos

Ravaging Anemoi and Deimos

Wind blasted around her, yet Cassie held her ground, using her arms to shield her head from any debris flying past her. Seemed like the blond douche was a bunch of hot air since he was only trying to blow her away, which fat chance of that happening.

Then he seemed to grow a brain and launched himself back through the hole in the wall and right at her. With a ball of thrashing wind covering a hand, he punched it forward and struck her gauntlets. The rapidly moving air screamed against the metal yet the armored blonde held her ground.

She snaked one of her arms forward, snatching the windbag's wrist. Turning on her heel, she began spinning once, twice, then released her dumbass catch, throwing the guy across the large room with no problem whatsoever. Kinda a shame that he stopped himself in midair; no crashing into any pews that were still standing.

Which reminded her, those church members were picking themselves back up somehow. What kind of endurance did they have? After the smackdown earlier, they should be sobbing messes of pain and broken bones. Freaking made no sense whatsoever.

"What is it with you people and getting in my way!" blond douche yelled at her. "I wanted the robot guy! Can you not catch a hint!"

Oh wow, how mature. He was throwing a temper tantrum because he wasn't getting what he wanted.

"Too bad, bitch. Grow a pair," she smack talked back. "Had I known you were this much of a pussy, I would have let you have him."

Blondie up there narrowed his eyes. "What did you call me?"

"And you're deaf now?" she mocked. "I really got a winner here."

"You...I'll show you what this bitch can do!" he roared down at her.

"So you admit you are one?" Cassie asked with fake innocence.

"Shut up!"

"But you just said—"

"I am not a bitch! I am Windstorm! And you are dead!"

"Windstorm? Go back to your Saturday morning cartoons, kiddo, 'cause—"

With a shriek of frustration, Windstorm up there exploded, creating a storm of wind that began tearing everything apart. The church goers who were starting their chant again, "We shed our—" were interrupted as they were flung about like rag dolls. Cassie meanwhile brought her arms up to cover her head but soon found out she had other worries.

The power of the winds had picked her up, along with tearing various pews from the floor and throwing them about, much like a tornado would. One such pew struck her from behind, pulling a grunt of pain out of her. Another almost got her from the front but she blocked in time. Didn't stop her arms from jarring from the force pushing against them, but still.

Time to make an executive decision. Since Windstorm was screaming like a bitch over there and there was too little space in here, Cassie needed more space to move about. Using the power of flight that the armor she wore provided her, she stopped herself despite the wind whipping around her and threw herself up and through the ceiling, exiting the church.

The starry sky above would have made a great view, one to stare at and observe the twinkling stars watching down on the planet below. Too bad she couldn't admire it. The sounds of destruction beneath her told the blonde all she needed to know. She was being chased by her opponent.

Good.

"No one gets away!" Windstorm bellowed after her.

Slowing her ascent, Cassie raised a leg up. "Who said anything about getting away?" She kicked her leg down as the wind user below was allowed to get into range. She felt satisfied as her foot met with a cheek and down Windstorm went. Turning to fully face her falling enemy, she waited for what he would do next.

It was predictable that the blond would stop his fall. Quickly recovering was something that she figured he would do. Throwing an arm out, he fired a funnel-shaped vortex of wind at her, something she easily dodged from this distance. It soon became apparent that the attack was continuous, like a stream. The attack began moving after her, but she continued to move out of the way with ease.

A second stream of wind joined the fray, and now she was getting a bit of a workout, keeping an eye on where one wind stream was while dodging the other. Abruptly they stopped and the next thing Cassie knew was a fist making friends with her gut. It was a hard blow, but it did not stun her or anything.

That meant she was able to hit back. Which she did. A very satisfying punch to that handsome face that was wrinkled in anger was in order. Hopefully it would bruise quickly.

Windstorm dropped in altitude slightly but did not go too far. Though his head was turned to a side, he glared at the armored girl from the corner of his eye. Tightening a fist, he showed how unoriginal he was and threw another punch. Reading the movements easily, Cassie blocked the incoming blow. Grabbing the arm, she yank it forward and brought a knee straight up into the blond's stomach, pleased at the sound of air escaping his mouth.

Raising an arm up, she brought her elbow down into the broad, upper back, using the force of the blow to flip Windstorm around her leg. Spinning to her left, she swung a leg out and kicked him away without holding anything back. Away he went, flying away for several feet before he stopped himself.

For a moment he floated there, Cassie had no idea why. Maybe the fact that he was getting his ass handed to him by a girl finally occurred to him? Fragile ego not ready to face reality? Coming up with some strategy to turn the tables on her? What could it be?

A loud, rage-filled scream finally broke the tense silence as Windstorm finally lost it. Powerful winds buffeted her, forcing her to concentrate more on keeping herself still in the air. Squinting her eyes open, she tried to see what this guy was up to—was there a plan to all this?

To her surprise, what was once a clear starry sky was now covered, clouds being pulled to the area by the wind guy screaming his lungs out over there. What was he trying...oh, that did not look good.

The clouds that now blocked the sky were swirling, moving faster and faster by the second. At the center, the beginnings of a funnel cloud were forming, and Cassie came to the conclusion that that could not be good. Annoying guys in masks, freaks with powers, and alien invasions were all things she could handle.

Out of principle, tornados were where she drew the line.

She tried calling out to him, yelling at the asshole who seemed to be beyond all reason at this point. The winds were picking up as nature itself was brought into this. A particularly strong gust of wind almost yanked her from her place in the sky and who knew where after. The funnel cloud was coming closer and closer, stronger and stronger by the second.

Pulling out the rope that somehow hid itself on her, Cassie lashed out with it towards Windstorm. She aimed for one of his arms, the limb bent and held out from his sides. Her lasso slung onto it like the arm was a hook and a simple tug tightened it.

Not too gently, she pulled harshly, forcing Windstorm out of his tantrum and towards her. There was a noticeably weakening of the winds as his concentration was broken, just what she hoped would happen. Almost feverously, she retracted her rope, bringing Windstorm along with it.

When he was close enough, she used a combination yanking the rope and throwing herself forward to close in on the wind user and when she could see the whites of his eyes, Cassie decked him with as much strength as she could muster. The wind pushing against her slowed how fast she moved, reducing how hard she was hitting, but she still hit him with enough force to snap his head to a side.

Not letting up, the armor-wearing blonde unleashed a flurry of punches, hitting Windstorm in the face, the chest, the shoulders, arms, and anywhere else she could reach. Every hit seemed to reduce how much power there was in the wind, and above the funnel cloud slowed its descent, pulling back slightly as it wavered.

Still wasn't gone, though, so that meant this asshole needed some more punishment.

Some blows to his stomach bent him over, allowing Cassie the chance to interlock her hands together by the fingers then land a jackhammer on his back. Like a missile, he fell down towards the church below, but she still wasn't done with him. Following after him at a faster pace, she rammed into Windstorm and added some more speed to his fall.

Through the roof, they crashed through ceiling and down into the mess of torn apart pews and whatever cultists were still around. A thunderous boom echoed throughout the place, a cloud of dust and debris clouding their landing area so none could see how this would play out.

As the flying particles settled down and visibility was restored, Cassie stood over the broken form of Windstorm, the only signs that he was alive based on his breathing. Beneath his body, the floor had cratered, and the remains of pews and carpeted flooring cushioned the unconscious body.

More importantly, the wind had died down though the starry sky above was still cloudy. There was, however, no imminent risk of tornadoes, so that was a victory the armored blonde could claim.

Yeah, this fight was over. Not in the mood to give some quip or a line of dialogue to sum up what she felt, Cassie instead turned towards the remains of organ and the entrance to the base below.

She wasn't done fighting, not by a long shot. This was only an appetizer to the main course.

And she was still hungry.

* * *

The detour they had to make was annoying, but it had to be done. Red Robin took comfort in the fact that at least they weren't wandering around aimlessly. Terra here was able to lead them where they needed to go.

That was the idea, hopefully.

"We're going to make a right up here. It's the long way but it's the second fastest way to where we want to go," their guide called out over her shoulder.

Meaning the way they had first gone was the fastest way. What were the odds.

They made their right and did not stop for the small crowd of worshipers up ahead. Much like how she had done the first time, Terra tore up the floor with rocks and used them to shove these mindless, chanting people out of their way.

"We shed—oof!"

Shoved up against the walls and held there by unyielding earth, the trio were able to get past these worshipers with no further effort needed. Really felt like they were making progress.

Up ahead, there was a left turn only, followed shortly by another right. They didn't slow down for a single turn, keeping up the brisk pace that had been set. Now, so long as they weren't waylaid or attacked—

Something got him from the side, and it had to happen in the middle of an intersection. Red Robin found himself heading to his left as whatever hit him kept pushing him further and further until he entered a large room. The pushing became shoving instead and unable to keep his balance, the young vigilante found himself stumbling onto the floor and with absolutely no grace whatsoever.

Looks like he spoke too soon. Who was attacking this time?

"Long time, no see," Warblade taunted as he displayed those bladed fingers of his prominently. "I was hoping to get another dance with you."

Oh how nice, it was this guy again. Last Red Robin recalled, he was the one on the ropes while Warblade controlled the fight. Figures he'd have to fight the one guy who was better at him in the hand-to-hand combat area.

"The feeling's not mutual," he retorted, as he got back onto his feet. He took a defensive stance, readying for the worst. Mentally, he did a quick check of what he had on him and successfully hid a grimace. His belt was low on gadgets and gizmos, so fighting skill was going to be really important here. Damn it.

Warblade looked ready to start this "dance," but before he could launch himself into a slicing and dicing fury, he leapt to a side as a kick slashed by harmlessly. It was Kori to the rescue, and the Tamaranian looked like she was ready for a fight.

"You again? Did I do something to you? Did I murder your parents? Why do you always keep saving this punk's ass?" the grinning mask killer demanded.

"You have attacked my friend; why would I not come to his defense?" Kori replied. Red Robin, meanwhile, felt some relief. Last he checked, Kori was a better fighter than Warblade. This was pretty much a two-on-one unless his alien friend decided to do what all the others had done and sent him ahead.

A part of him didn't want to leave and wanted to see this one through. For what seemed like forever, this finger-knife wielding Ravager had done nothing but try and kill him. Some closure was on the table.

"Lucky me, I also happen to have a friend of my own," Warblade sneered. "Maybe you know him, maybe you don't. He's the newest Ravager and convert, and unlike all the others, I don't think you're going to have the same kind of luck you've been having. Come on in, newbie! Time for you to show us what you can do!"

Well, if that didn't sound ominous. Who was this "newbie" and what were they capable of?

Heavy footsteps directed attention further into this large room. From a shadowed corner, a large form appeared, coming closer and closer to the three combatants. Red Robin's eyes widened behind his mask and his jaw fell open as he recognized who this new recruit was. But it couldn't be possible. A quick look to Kori, however, told him that no, this was no illusion.

Approaching them was none other than Trogaar, the Gordanian overlord who had enslaved the Tamaranian. What they hell was he doing here?

"We're still in the beta process with him, so don't expect him to talk much," Warblade jested. "Gonna have to thank you two for volunteering; now I get to see what all he's capable of."

Crap, crap, crap, not good. Last time, Trogaar had been wiping the floor with them, or Kori and Cassie as it had been. This guy really knew his way around a fight. Unlike last time, Cassie wasn't here, so all they had were Kori's phenomenal fighting prowess and his slightly above average skills.

This was gonna suck.

"Red Robin," Kori suddenly said, grabbing his attention with the authority in her tone. "Do not surrender to despair just yet. He is stronger on his right side, put pressure on the left."

Huh? What?

Red Robin had no time to think about or ask what the hell she meant. The Tamaranian was flying into action, literally. Launching herself up into the air, she fired two bolts of green energy down on the two Ravagers, aforementioned fighters taking defensive maneuvers and dodging.

Sharply turning, Kori flew after Trogaar with an arm cocked back, hand covered in green light that was unleashed in what was supposed to be a devastating punch. Trogaar, predictably, blocked it though you could hear the sound of air rushing away from the impact of the blow.

Anything after that was not paid any attention to by the vigilante. Turning on the electric current to his cap, Red Robin turned to face his opponent. As predictable as Trogaar blocking Kori was, Warblade was already dashing at him, the glow of his mask's grinning face leaving an after-trail of light in his wake.

By now, he knew this' guy's tricks. A lot of slashing and stabbing with the occasional kick. This time around, he had Kori's parting words to him echoing in his head.

Warblade slashed forth with his right hand, and Red Robin reacted by bringing up a portion of his cape to block. At the same time, he was moving to his attacker's left, spinning of his left foot to throw his leg out and spin kick the guy in his ribs. Not used to such a maneuver, he was only able to land his knee into his attacker's ribcage. Much to the masked teen's surprise, Warblade stumbled to a side, caught by surprise himself.

Kori had been telling the truth, Warblade was a righty.

Instead of pressing his attack, Red Robin took a step back. He couldn't afford to underestimate this killer; he was still the better fighter between the two of them.

"Somebody learned some tricks," Warblade mocked as he righted himself. "That won't save you. You're going to have to screw up sometime."

Here was the next attack, the blades slashing with controlled purpose. Knowing that his cape could resist the sharpness, that's what he blocked with. At least this time it was a stab that was stopped, no loud screech sound to insult the ear. Quickly, he moved his cape out of the way to see where the next strike was coming from and raised up the other wing his cape formed to block the slash. Yes, there was the screeching noise but it was mercifully short.

Oof! Kick to the gut! Back he went, his feet scrambling to keep his balance. Those kicks always got him. But wait! Warblade was gone! Where was he…?

There was a flash of green light, and Red Robin saw one of those energy attacks that Kori used heading directly for him. He ducked out of the way, and just in time too. Not because it appeared the Tamaranian had turned on him, but because this unexpected attack was heading for Warblade who had gotten behind him and had been about to shred him. The Ravager had to go evade quick in order to not get hit.

But there was an opening. Ducked down as he was, the young vigilante acted as soon as he realized this was his chance. He spun around, swinging his leg out, and tripping the stronger, more experienced fighter.

Success! Warblade had fallen onto his back, but he was already rolling onto his front. Hoping to get another decent hit, Red Robin leapt at him, throwing a punch. Should have held back; showing how quick to recover he was, the masked killer had already twisted around and caught his wrist, stopping the attack cold.

Already figuring out how vulnerable he was, his cape was brought up once more to stop another stab of those finger blades. Expecting a struggle, Red Robin did not expect Warblade to throw the rest of himself forward and force the masked teen not only backwards, but to lose his balance as well and fall onto his back.

A foot slipped around his best line of defense and pushed against his arm, effectively moving his cape out of the way. His gripped wrist was pinned onto the floor, no problem. Through chance, Red Robin had managed to pull a leg up to his torso and get his foot pressed into Warblade's body in some kind of attempt to push him off.

Only problem was that Warblade had a longer reach and the amount of force he would have to use to prevent any injury, well, didn't have enough time to reach that,

With one free hand, Warblade raised the lethal blades up, ready to finally tear some flesh apart. And here was Red Robin, the helpless chunk of meat about to be stabbed into.

Yet, seeing where his boot was, he recalled a certain function of it.

There was no way to know if this would work, but there was no choice and he couldn't expect Kori to help him out again. Pulling his leg back as much as he could, he brought his leg to the clash over his chest, the one that not only held his cape onto him, but also activated a variety of feature.

Unbelievably, against all odds, he managed to activate and deactivate a couple things. One thing he ended up doing was turning off the electric current running through his cape. What he did activate was the rocket function in his boots. One blasted off useless, but the other had Warblade pressed against it.

With a cry, the stronger Ravager was blasted off the vigilante, allowing him a lot of breathing room. Quickly, he was back on his feet, ready to continue this fight.

Then a wall of rock rose out of the floor and blocked everything from sight.

"What!" he exclaimed.

A hand on his shoulder began pulling back on him, and he immediately reacted, twisting around to grab it and potentially hurt someone. It was the sight, and only the sight, of Terra that stopped him. One and one came together and he scowled.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he demanded.

"Not my idea, the orange girl told me to get you out of here and that she would handle these guys," Terra told him. "I don't know how she managed to do that while handling that alien, but I got the gist. Besides, she knows how to handle Warblade. You don't. I've just seen a guy get lucky. And don't forget, there's still Blood you have to deal with."

"I'd rather have someone watching my back when we reach him," Red Robin retorted.

"If your friends can handle the other Ravagers, they'll find your friend here as soon as they can," Terra said. "Do you trust them enough to do that?"

His first response was to say a snappy "yes" but he had to think about if he really meant that. That was because he really wanted to end whatever was keeping Warblade coming after him. He was tired of the creep already and wanted some closure. Yet, did he trust the others to be quick enough with their baddies to beat them quickly enough for help?

Let's face it, Trogaar himself was a challenge and took three of them working off each other to defeat the first time. Combine him with someone like Warblade and did Kori stand a chance?

Terra yanked on him, trying to pull him away from the fight. "Come on already. Gar's not going to save himself."

"Why don't _you_ do it?" Red Robin snapped and he pulled away from the blonde. "If you care about him so much, why don't you do something about it?"

"It's not that simple, and unlike you, I know what Blood's capable of. I'm not in a position to do anything," Terra retorted. "That bastard has a hold on all of us, and it's not to simply make you think what he wants you to think. If he wanted to, he could make you _do_ what he wanted, even if you don't want to do it yourself. The closer I am to him, the more power he'll have over me. The only thing I can do is lead you to him and hope for the best. It's the only way I don't make things worse."

"And what makes you think I'll be able to do anything against him?" Red Robin felt he really needed an answer to that question.

"He has no hold over you. So long as you don't bleed, you should be fine," was his reassurance. "So what's it going to be? Try and stop Blood or stand there like some moron?"

A moment's hesitation followed, then a decision was made.

"Goddamn it," Red Robin grumbled as he followed after the geokinetic.

* * *

It was going badly. Victor thought he knew what he was up against, but apparently he had thought wrong. See, last time they had been out in the open, him and Four Arms here, and back then Victor hadn't known all his robotic body was capable of. With some new moves, this should have been a piece of cake, right?

Well, this time around, they weren't in a wide open space. They were in a hallway, so closed space. And Four Arms here happened to be really good up close. As in, _really_ good.

As a result, his metal body was taking all sorts of punishment. Take right now, his face was making friends with a wall. How did they get them this smooth? Had to take someone who knew their stuff.

A hand was pressed against the back of his head, applying force in an attempt to kinda, maybe crush his skull. The advantages of titanium, but that didn't mean he was comfortable. Besides, he was strong himself.

Throwing an elbow back, Four Arms broke contact and allowed Victor to get some much needed breathing room. Pushing himself away from the wall, he faced his opponent, wiping at his mouth with a large, robotic hand.

Okay, charging in had been a bad idea. The large, noticeable cracks that marred a once pristine corridor was ample evidence of that. And yes, his body being thrown against them were the reason for those cracks. Meanwhile, Four Arms didn't look all too damaged; not that any of his attacks had hit this guy/thing.

"Alright," Victor said, speaking for the sake of speaking. "Let's try this again."

Four Arms did not look impressed.

Transforming his right arm into what was becoming his trademark energy cannon, Victor fired a blast down the hallway, for once taking advantage of the close quarters. Four Arms brought up all of his arms, crossing them in X-shapes in front of him and allowed the blast to hit, an explosion detonating immediately. Smoke blocked everything behind it from sight, but that wasn't a probably for the cybernetic teen.

His robot eye had heat vision, and he used that to figure out that Four Arms was still standing. A noticeable lowered of those broad shoulders was a giveaway he was lowering his arms, which was another opportunity for the cyborg.

Another blast was fired followed by another detonation, a flash blocking out the heat vision for a second. Not that he was worried about that since Four Arms had lowered his guard. Wonder how he took that shot?

Breaking through the smoke with unbelievable speed, Four Arms was all up in his face before Victor knew it. He barely had time to widen an eye as a fist nailed in the flesh side of his face. His arm cannon was knocked to a side to prevent it from firing at such close range. A second blow got him in the metal side of his head, and then it was hit after hit impacting his body.

His body reacted how one normally would when punched repeatedly by a guy with four arms, but there really wasn't any harm being done. Except to his head, because that was the part of his body most exposed. Hmm, if he didn't know any better, that sounded like some kind of design flaw.

Getting tired of the beatdown, Victor made an attempt to stop it by using his left arm to throw a punch. Now, he was righty and somehow that got programed into his robotic body, so trying to use his left arm was awkward. It was a surprise and not a surprise when his hand was caught by Four Arms.

Next thing he knew, he was being flipped and landed on his back. Don't ask if there was any clanging ringing out. Despite being laid low, he found he had a good angle at his opponent; his arm cannon could be aimed directly at the guy even though from where he laid on the floor, Four Arms was upside down. Gotta take the chance.

He fired a blast that went up, but Four Arms moved out of the way before he could get hit. The energy continued right up into the ceiling, detonated, and sent all sorts of rocky debris falling down on top of the cyborg.

"Gah!" Victor had to cover his face with his left hand to protect it, rolling onto his front a second later. Well, that hadn't been one of his better ideas.

Two hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hefted him up. Four blank eyes stared at him, almost mesmerizingly while two more hands pinned two robotic arms to the cybernetic teen's sides. The hands on the shoulders left, but the positions they took were anything but comforting.

"Oh no," Victor uttered as figured out what was about to happen.

Life became a video game because instead of being Jax, he was now Johnny Cage, and Four Arms was doing his best Goro impersonation. Hit after hit came, Victor's head flopping about with no end in sight. At some point, his arm changed back to default mode, but that meant very little in the context of things.

The end did come. And the end was followed by being piledrived into the floor. After that, things were a bit of a haze, and for some reason, he had a thought that something needed to be rebooted.

A slap straightened everything out. The haze was gone and looming over him was Four Arms who didn't look like he had done anything physically demanding recently.

"Why are you not stronger?" Four Arms asked, though the way it sounded, it was more like a statement.

"Pardon?" Because being asked that was not something he had expected.

"I had been led to believe you were stronger. You showed more ability before. Why are you not stronger?" Four Arms explained. At least he didn't sound like he was talking down to the cyborg.

"You sound disappointed. There's a long line of that, believe me," Victor replied.

"There is no pleasure in killing the weak," Four Arms stated as he brought two of his hands together, intertwining the fingers together. "Kill you I must. Orders. A pity you were not more worthy of it."

Okay, that sounded like an insult there.

The clenched together hands fell and Victor caught both arms, using the strength his robotic body possessed to stop the blow. Pulling what was for him downwards, he threw Four Arms over him and down the hallway, then pushed himself up.

Time to get a second wind. Close space or not, he couldn't let this asshole kill him. Four Arms may have been dominating so far, but that was no excuse. He did have some of the most advanced technology on the planet making up his body, right? Time he really began using it.

Getting to his feet, he began using the various programs installed in the robot part of his head to find out any and all functions he had that he could use in a fight. It was happening in seconds, even as Four Arms was getting up himself, none the worse from the earlier throw.

Victor told himself that when he got out of this, he was going to sit down and really figure out everything this body of his was capable of.

In the meantime, he had a volunteer willing to let him test some of it out. Far be it for him to refuse.

* * *

"You show a lot of bravery. If only you knew what you were up against," Phobia boasted, holding herself with a sense of superiority that was almost like a shield around her.

Now that she was standing here in front of this Ravager, Rachel could feel some of the magical energies welling inside of this girl...woman. It was hard to tell how old Phobia was, but she looked older. What her actual age was was a mystery. Regardless, the dark-haired teen had a theory as to who this was.

Back when she had first arrived in this city, Victor had been the victim of a psychic attack. For the most part, that had been the only attack of its kind and of which had not resurfaced since. Based on Victor's testimony and Phobia's name, Rachel concluded that the person responsible was right in front of her.

But more questions had been raised, if Phobia had psychic capabilities, then what was the reason for possessing magic?

"I have seen a lot. I think it is more appropriate to say how you're going to impress me," Rachel replied dryly.

"Oh, an arrogant one," Phobia cooed, her lips curving wickedly. The irony, however, was not lost on the cloak-wearing girl.

You didn't need to be an expert in body language to see that Phobia was full of herself. The way she stood, her posture, the manner in which she spoke, all common traits of arrogance. Wonder if vanity was also another trait.

"That was a statement of fact, not arrogance," she corrected. "Based on your name, I predict that whatever you throw at me will be fear-based. More than likely illusions of snakes or spiders, both of which are my favorite animals. If you are who I believe you are, you aren't the type to handle someone head-on. You prefer to strike from the shadows or behind, when no one is looking at you and their guard is down. How very cowardly of you."

Predictably, Phobia glared. "You think your taunts will save you, little girl? I do not know what parlor tricks you have seen before, but it is nothing compared to _my_ power."

Rachel detected the surge of magic and acted accordingly. No, she did not cast a spell of her own. Instead, she took a more risky approach, and cleared her mind. Making sure it was blank as blank can be, only the words Azarath, Metrion, and Zenthos chanted repetitiously. Then she felt the touch of a psychic attack, identical to the one she had felt out with Victor.

She allowed it, identifying it for what it really was. It was a probe, not an attack. In fact, it was a very messy probe, as if no one had taken the time to teach her how to use it correctly.

"What is this?" Phobia demanded, confirming Rachel's theory.

"Problem reading me? I think I understand what you can do now," Rachel said. "You use a basic form of telepathy to see into the minds of your victims then use your magic to conjure up whatever you learn about them, preying on their fears. It's clever, but I have never experienced anything so sloppy before."

That struck a nerve. Phobia visibly bristled in front on the dark magic user. "You know nothing of my power. I'll show you sloppy. I'll show you more than that!" There was a distorting forming around the magical psychic, a subtle dimming of lighting, and an otherworldly sense that the reality was shifting. "I'll show you what true terror looks like!"

There was a surge and the world darkened. Rachel was surprised by how quick it happened and she could feel the psychic pressure on her mind increase. She resisted, trying and successfully forcing it out. She did not need anyone going into her head against her will; that was more for their safety than hers.

Her mind was not a safe place.

Light began to return, but it was not the strong and steady kind that a modern world possessed. It was weaker and dimmer, and had more in common with the kind of light only fire could produce. As her eyes began to adjust, Rachel found that she was in no hallway in an underground complex.

A hellish landscape greeted her, inhospitable and reeking of brimstone and decay. Slowly, the sounds of tortured agony and despair reached her ears, moaning and begging for relief that would never be granted. The temperature was unbearable, heat sapping any strength she had and forcing her to fight against collapsing.

She did not experience any disorientation. Neither did she wondering what the hell was happening. The sights, the smells, the sounds, all of it, it was familiar. She knew this place. Deep down, she knew where she was.

Desperate hands clawed at her feet, causing the dark-haired girl to look down at the hoard of bedraggled and almost misshapen lifeforms masquerading as...people? Gray, pallid skin, missing teeth, sunken eyes, tattered clothing, and absolutely filthy, no discernable speech could be made out from the noises they uttered.

Reflexively, she kicked the one off her legs and back off. It was nothing against these poor creatures, she just...didn't like to be touched…

Dark chuckles. Red eyes peering of darkness. Immediately, she was on her guard, trying to arm herself with magic that for some reason was failing. That made no sense. Why couldn't she—!

Emerging from hiding, red skinned monsters revealed themselves, three in total. Another word to describe them would be demons. Like hungry predators, they circled around her, not a single look directed towards her friendly. Through loose clothing and armor, she could see the musculature and the might that made up their bodies, the swagger that they stalked with, and the ill-intent they all harbored.

"Brothers, our sister has returned," the largest of them mocked. He flexed powerful hands, fire light gleaming off of sharp, almost claw-like nails.

"How the favorite scurries back," a shorter, more lithe demon remarked, taunting.

"Was Earth too much for her? How weak she must be," the third, and skinniest of the trio crowed. "Father will be most displeased."

"Be silent!" she snapped, drawing her cloak around her is to shield herself from these bestial animals. It was not out of fear, no...

"Yes, Father will be," the first and largest monster agreed, blatantly ignoring her. "Shall we give her a taste of what is to come?"

"Should we not bring her to father first? He would be most displeased should we act on our own," the third, skinny demons pointed out.

"As if Father cares about her well-being, so long as she remains alive," the second, lithe demon replied, dismissing the concern. "It would be better than way, any way. Not only will she face his wrath, she will live to suffer more."

"You do not frighten me," Rachel spat out, wanting to move away but knowing she couldn't. The trio had circled around her, blocking off all escape.

"But you should be."

It didn't boom, yet it shook her to the core. Rising from the background, part of it and not, not there before but always was there, was a being more cruel, more terrible than the demons surrounding her. Towering and brimming with power itself, four eyes gazed down on her, pinning her down like she was an insect.

The being did not move, yet his shadow fell over her, blackening everything. His face loomed impossibly closer, and those eyes burned, heat blazing from them and searing her being. She could not breathe, could not move, could not feel anything but overwhelming…

"Did you really think you could escape? No matter where you go. How far you run. What you use to hide yourself. My eyes always see you. This is no escape."

...the very things that terrified her, that kept her up at night. Fear, right here, in the form that spelled only torment and agony. The name it possessed was one she could not speak, could not conjure up within her very mind, as if the mere act of _thinking_ it would make this nightmarish world all that more real.

"Be a good girl. Give in. Let your fear consume you. Let it motivate you to call for me. You know I will answer. For you, I will always answer…"

"No…" Her voice cracked, pent up emotions threatening to escape her, to run amok, and expose the kind of power _he_ had over her. "No...I...I can't. I will not…"

"But you will. _You will_."

"No!" she cried out, finally moving, but not to run. She sank to her knees, her paralysis granting her that much freedom to do.

"Resistance is futile, and it bores me. Surrender and give in. Let the fear consume you…"

Why didn't he just act? Why was he still speaking? The entity, this _thing_ , did not speak unless...unless he felt he could gain the most through it. He craved doing more than speaking. Taking more than persuading. Seizing more than tempting.

Why would he try to use her fear when he was more than capable of taking her with but a single hand? Why had he not done so already? While he did delight in the pain and suffering of others, he never singled anyone out. Not even her. So why now? For retribution? What?

"Cease your struggles, they will not avail you."

Why was he still talking? Why hadn't he already acted? What was he _waiting_ _for_?

"Look at her. Look at the little bitch crying in front of Father."

"How can she claim to be _his_ daughter? To share the same blood as her, it insults me."

"Shall we drain her of it? Shall we show Father once and for all who he should favor most? Oh, let's, lets!"

"Don't touch me! Don't even get near me!" Rachel screamed out, a flare of her power enveloping her for a second and distorting her surroundings for a brief instant. That distortion made her pause, for this hellish landscape did not bend such a way to her will. That shouldn't be possible unless…

With all the eyes on her, there was one pair drilling into her but not close. Or it didn't feel close. It was nearby...but hiding too.

Lifting her head up, the dark-haired teen zeroed in on a single point, one deep within the breast of the foul beast looming over her. There, right there, if she looked hard enough…

Something solid, hidden within this...illusion.

Anger took hold as pieces of information she didn't know she had clicked together, and along with it—

An explosion of might!

Dark magicks swirled around her, taking the form of a large bird that sliced through the vision taunting her, tearing it apart like tissue paper. She could feel the backlash of power racing before her, the sudden appearance of the Ravager named Phobia, knocked back onto her ass by this magical rejection.

All around Rachel, the hallway had cratered, pushed away by the might of her magic. Fury demanded retribution, and for once she was keen on giving in to it.

"Did you think a charlatan like you could conquer me?" she thundered as she approached the pitiable creature before her. Tendril of black-colored magic slithered out from her being, quickly wrapping around the prone female's limbs as she recovered from her shock.

Now it was Rachel's turn to tower, to loom over her prey who was only beginning to comprehend what stood before her. "What…?" Phobia gasped out, eyes widening in terror.

"You like to torment the weak with their fears?" Rachel mocked. "Allow me to visit the same on you. Let's see how you'll do when faced with your own fears."

As her magic surged and plunged down on her prey, it was Phobia's turn to scream.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry, but I could not pass up the Mortal Kombat reference. Seriously, I have a four-armed guy here fighting a cyborg and I'm not going to take advantage of it? You presume me more highly. So, quick disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Kombat or its characters therein.

By the way, anybody have any idea what Raven looked like when she tore into Phobia? I'll leave that one to your imagination. Anything you guys can come up with should be more terrifying than anything I can write.


	24. Constellations Align

Constellations Align

The hallway may have been short, but the two large, forbidding doors almost made up for it. Large was pretty much the only thing intimidating about them; there were no intricate designs or decorations to really make it stand out and warn away anybody who wasn't suppose to be here away. Size was the big thing here, like someone was trying to compensate for something.

"You're sure this is it?" Red Robin asked his blonde haired, slip of a girl guide who stood a few feet behind him. Hopefully there weren't any more surprises like another Ravager waiting about, or worse, a betrayal.

"Blood made sure no one else went past these doors. Only Mother Mayhem and these people he called 'The Sisters' are allowed in there," Terra answered.

Ah, so heavily restricted, probably a heavy-handed punishment if violated. Well, looks like he was about to do just that and violate whatever sanctity this place had. They were dealing with religious nutjobs here so they had to have some sacred area somewhere around here.

Squaring his shoulders, the young vigilante took a few steps forward, doing his best not to be too anxious or somehow talk himself out of this. He came to a stop, a funny feeling stopping him.

Looking over his shoulder, he noted how Terra had remained where she was, not moving an inch to follow him.

"Are you coming?" he asked. He had no idea what was behind those doors? Traps? A blood altar for twisted rituals? A Saw-esque torture chamber? More hallways?

Terra shook her head in the negative. "I told you before, I can't. You're on your own from here."

Oh right, she had mentioned that before. Still. "You've come this far already. Why don't you help me? I can distract Blood and whoever else is in there with him while you grab Garfield. I still need your help."

"I'm sorry, but I can't. This is as far as I can go and I'm not going to get Blood to...it would be best for everyone if I didn't go in. You want to fight me too? You might know how to fight, but I've could have killed you and your friends already. We are underground and I doubt ten tons of earth crushing you from all sides is something any of you could walk away from."

She always had to have an answer, didn't she?

"Fine. How about you make sure I don't get any unwanted guests?" he suggested, though he couldn't hold back some of his disappointment. "Last thing I need are anymore Ravagers trying to make fries julienne out of me."

"Stop being such a pussy and do your hero shtick already," Terra retorted.

Right, right. Damn, he had a feeling that what was going to happen on the other side of those doors was going to suck. Worst of all, he was by himself. It was one thing to go out on patrol when you knew or had a good idea of what you were doing. This, this was going face-to-face with the big bad of this situation and doing so without anyone watching your back. This was going to be a first, and damn, he wished he had one of the others or even Nightwing to help him out.

Guess everyone had to grow up sometime.

Steeling his nerves, Red Robin continued his approach, reaching the suddenly ominous doors with their lack of anything to distinguish them. Not only that, they looked really heavy, like you needed some strength to push them open.

Okay, now he was just trying to talk himself out of this. Man up, Drake. You had already crossed the point of no return earlier.

Placing his gloved hands on the surface of the doors, he pushed on them, not holding back.

And he continued pushing on them. And pushing. And pushing some more. Why weren't these damn doors opening?!

"Uh, those are pull doors," Terra offered helpfully.

His gaze was drawn down to two large door handles that had blended in with the surface of the door. He felt his face burn with embarrassment, which was amplified by the fact that he had an audience.

And there went the coolness factor.

Regaining his composure, Red Robin grabbed a door handle and easily pulled open the door. That made the earlier excuse of the door being heavy so much weaker.

Forget all about that; so long as no one said anything about this, no one would ever learn about it. Now, though, now it was time to put it all on the line and face what was on the other side.

An expansive, red drenched cavern greeted him, and a stench almost made him gag. What the hell was that smell? Ignore it, power through it, and get in there. Treading carefully, he entered this forbidden, supposedly sacred room, keeping an eye for anything and anyone.

A click sounded next to his head. "Not another step," a severe, feminine voice declared.

And he was barely five feet in…

"Your hands. Raise them," the female voice ordered. Practically feeling what felt like the barrel of a gun next to his head, Red Robin obeyed the command and slowly raised his arms up in the universal sign of surrender. "Very good. Very obedient, for an intruder. Your sins are unpardonable, and only death may absolve you."

"Mayhem," a voice sternly called. "Do bring our uninvited guest over here. I wish to see the idiot who dares trespass on my property. Since he has come this far, he might as well witness the fruits of my labor."

A second's pause. "As you wish, Brother. Move, intruder. A great honor has been bestowed upon you."

And wasn't he so lucky?

So at (possible) gunpoint, he was allowed further into this large room with the unbearable smell, allowed towards a caped figure with the oddest headpiece he had ever seen. Looked like bone from this angle. This person who was most likely Blood stood before this shifting, glimmering, red disc that looked like it was phasing in and out of reality itself. It was really hard to describe.

Hanging above it was something that was definitely physical. Behind his mask, Red Robin's eyes widened at the sight of a chained up and restrained Garfield, the grin-skinned teen hanging there with so many cuts, all of which leaked blood. Even now the precious liquid dripped and drizzled down into the large pool which that red disc thing was hovering over. The pool was red itself and the teen vigilante had a good feeling he knew what it was that filled it.

Oddly enough, this was also where that stench was the strongest.

The caped man, turned around when he was close enough, and whatever skin-tight outfit he wore was so garish, it was hard to look at. Someone needed fashion advice here. Blue, red, and yellow should not be combined this way. A bored expression stared at the teen from a surprisingly youthful face. Sure, it was easy to tell he was older, but he didn't look like a guy in his fifties or sixties, but somewhere in the thirties.

"I recognize you. One of the obstacles the Sisters claimed would stand in my way. You're not much to look at up close," Blood commented, sounding as bored as he looked.

"You must be the Brother Blood I've been hearing about," Red Robin replied, shifting his stance slightly but still aware that Mayhem was behind him. Hadn't gotten a good look at her yet.

"Who hasn't heard of me? That's nothing new." Oh wow, Blood actually rolled his eyes. This wasn't what the vigilante had been expecting. "I'd say congratulations for getting this far, but my heart wouldn't be in it. All it means is that my Ravagers are going to have to start their training all over again. So much time and effort wasted already."

"It brings shame to us all," Mayhem agreed.

"Mind calling off your sharpshooter here? Her arm must be getting tired," Red Robin said wryly.

"Actually, I'd prefer her to keep her weapon on you. I'm not stupid enough to provide you a chance to mess things up more than you already have," Blood retorted.

"Then why keep me alive?" the teen vigilante challenged.

"Because I'm curious. How does one looking like you manage to survive all the attempts my Ravagers have made on your life? Is it skill? Or pure dumb luck? Do enlighten me." Blood tilted his head back enough so that the older man was looking down his nose at him. His muscular arms were crossed over a toned torso that that outfit left little to the imagination.

"Trade secrets," Red Robin quipped. "I find it more curious that you have a team of underage kids trained to be assassins. What's the point in all that?"

"I believe you said it best when you said 'trade secrets.'" Blood practically drawled his voice as he spoke. "Honestly, I can't admit how underwhelmed I am at this moment. I have more important things to do than to banter with you."

Oh crap, oh crap. Not a good sign, and especially with something aimed at his head. Gotta think of something quick.

Noticing the disc behind Blood, he said, "I'm guessing that's the portal you're trying to make."

"And he has eyes too," Blood mocked. "But you do remind me of the matter at hand. One that is far more important than you. Still, while it would be easier to have you killed, once that portal is open, you could have some value to me. One more slave to add to my growing ranks, which will increase by approximately seven billion before this night is through. Mayhem, do take him aside but don't go too far. A living guinea pig is still more valuable than a dead one."

"As you wish, Brother Blood," Mayhem said as she took Red Robin's arm and pulled him away. Because of this, it allowed the masked teen to turn towards Mayhem, a severe looking woman wearing the typical vestments of the Church they claimed to be. Like a nun, but from hell.

Fortunately, it gave him an opportunity. Acting quick, he brought his left arm up and knocked Mayhem's arm, the one that held the gun, away from him, directing her aim away. He didn't stop there as he snaked his arm around hers, restraining it. With his other arm, he brought it back and threw forth a punch straight to her surprised face, letting her go but not with her gun.

As Mayhem fell back with a cry, Red Robin now held her weapon which he threw to the other side of this large room, the gun clattering on the ground as it slid into the shadows.

Withdrawing the last of his explosive throwing projectiles, he faced an annoyed looking Blood.

"Must we do this?" Blood asked, though he sounded more like he was complaining.

"Yeah, we do," Red Robin retorted as he threw his incendiary weapons straight at the cult leader.

* * *

Victor had no idea how easy it was to reformat himself on the fly, especially when in the middle of a fight, but it was more than possible.

For example, his arm cannon that fired off these blasts of energy. With a few tweaks, he was able reconfigure it so that instead of energy, it fired off a pulse of sound waves that had the same kind of punch that a blast of energy would have. Unlike that energy, the pulse took up a large amount of space, and in a cramped place like a hallway, it was much harder to dodge it.

Just like what Four Arms was figuring out.

The large guy was being slammed into a wall from the latest pulse, showing signs that he was starting to tire out. A very good sign.

However, since this was a new feature and he didn't truly know all his limitations, he was starting to feel a little tired. Which was weird because he hadn't felt this way since before that Kalanorian alien invasion. You know, when he was still one hundred percent human and all. Hmm, might have to do some more reconfiguring on his arm. These pulses were taking too much out of him.

"Getting tired?" he called out to Four Arms. More out of bravado and a way to hide his exhaustion. "Just say when and I'll stop."

Four Arms was picking himself up—er, pulling himself out of the wall. It sounded like he was snorting, but it wasn't easy to tell from this distance.

"It's your funeral,' Victor said as he readied another pulse.

Four Arms began charging, showing off impressive speed for his size. He was closing in, closing…

He fired a pulse, a light purple ring racing down the hallway and hitting Four Arms right in the middle of that broad, muscular chest. The hit sent Four Arms flying backwards, the big guy smacking against the floor and sliding down it.

Victor heard a slight hiss, his overheating body attempting to cool itself down. The ventilation system was really earning its pay, trying to prevent a meltdown or any damage to his circuitry. Might need to give it a break so that it wouldn't get overtaxed. Last thing he needed to do was go overboard and fry himself.

"Look, buddy, I can do this all day. Can you say the same?" he tried again.

Four Arms was picking himself up, obviously still willing to put up a fight.

"You don't have to do this, man. Give up!" Victor demanded.

"I will not," Four Arms growled. "This...this is my home. I will not allow you to take it from me."

Oh, and didn't that make him feel like an asshole. Good job, man.

"And I won't let you kill me, but it seems like we can't all get what we want," he retorted. "I didn't know about you before, I didn't start shit, but that didn't stop you and your buddies from trying to kill me."

"I do what is necessary. I do not care what you did or did not do. If you have to die, you will die."

Little room for argument here, wasn't there. All black and white and nothing in between. Great.

"You know, for a second, I was starting to feel a bit sorry for you. But now, you can go fuck yourself," Victor spat out. "You want to kill me, fine, but don't expect I'll let you have your way with me."

And Four Arms was rushing back at him again. It seemed they were done talking, not that Victor was going to complain about it. After all the damage he had taken, Four Arms was slower as all the punishment from earlier was deciding to make itself known. Yeah, he was still fast, but his speed was down by 2.8 seconds.

The fist flying at him was more manageable to dodge, just take a step back and let it swing right by. Even though there were four fists to watch out for, Four Arms was only throwing one at a time, another sign he was running out of steam. All Victor needed to do was let Four Arms here swing away until he tired himself out, which would also give the cybernetic teen time to cool off himself.

But where would be the fun in that?

Clenching large, metal fingers into a fist, Victor let another attack pass by before swinging his own out to try and deck this four armed guy. Showing he still had some skills, Four Arms pulled back in time to dodge it. Two hands clasped onto the robotic limb and held it, putting the teen cyborg in an awkward position. A large, hammy fist then decked him instead, catching Victor in the fleshy side of his head.

Next came a punch to the robot side of his face, then a third to his human side, and all that was followed by Four Arms pulling on his captured arm and falling back, rolling and throwing Victor over him to crash further down the hallways.

Okay, that had been a horrible idea. Even tired, Four Arms still knew how to fight.

"Okay. This is getting old," he grumbled. "What's it going to take for you to go down already?"

Perhaps he wasn't grumbling enough, because Four Arms immediately responded with, "Death."

Crap. He was heard and he had a person willing to give up his life for...whatever it was he felt he was defending. His home? This church?

But wasn't he, Victor, also fighting for something? Sure, to save his own life, but wasn't that important to? And hadn't this asshole tried to take it away from him too? That meant they were even, and guilt was not something he needed to feel.

He had a right to life, didn't he? He miraculously survived one alien invasion, and then fought off another. This guy with the four arms, he wasn't nothing compared to that. Just a punk who knew how to fight. Besides, he hadn't traveled all over the United States for this shit.

"That the way you want it? Then come get it!" he bellowed, gesturing at himself.

Predictably, Four Arms accepted it, rushing back at him. Fully expecting some kind of attack that was going to knock him on his ass, Victor crouched low and charged forward like a defensive lineman. Four Arms was adjusting himself already, braced for when the cyborg teen rammed into him. Four hands were gripping the sides of half-robot, muscles beginning to bulge with planned exertion.

He wasn't going to have any of that. Thanks to his CPU constantly scanning, he had all the info he needed to pound the bastard right in his kidneys with the maximal amount of force. Which he did. Mercilessly.

He heard Four Arms grunt with each blow to his side, the strength in his arms weakening. When Four Arms was almost bending at a ninety degree angle, Victor chose that moment to activate the boosters in his feet, rocketing the two of them down the hallway. Only a wall brought them to a stop, and even then, some of the rock gave away as a crater formed behind Four Arms.

But that wasn't where Victor stopped, oh no. He continued wailing on the guy, landing punch after punch into an increasingly bruised torso. Detecting movement to his side, his used an arm he was pulling back to smack away an incoming hand, then used that same arm to throw an uppercut into Four Arm's chin, and got to hear a loud smack at the bastard's head crunched against the rock behind him.

And yet he still did not stop. Leaping back, he transformed his arm back into its cannon form and fired a blast of energy straight at his living punching bag. He vaguely noticed a window pop up warning him that his cooling system was overheating but ignored it as he attempted to fire another one.

This second blast was a bit weaker, but it still held that concussive force like all the other ones he had fired before. A cloud of dust was covering Four Arms, and Victor watched it with the intensity of a hawk. Warnings were screaming in his head that his mechanical body would not be able to continue with the stress he was putting on it.

Well fuck that. It was life and death here and if he had to exhaust this fancy-excuse for life support, then Goddamn it, he would.

None of it would mean anything if Four Arms here or that Blood guy had their way.

As the cloud of dust and dirt began to clear, he was already powering up another blast, one his systems were crying out that was one too many.

Then he detected a hand on his shoulder. His sensors did not distinguish between hands, only that someone was touching him. He turned, ready to hit whoever it was, because it could not be a friendly, right?

Turns out he might have to look into those sensors, 'cause the next thing he knew, he was being shoved up against the wall beside him, his armed pinned by Cassie-I'm-not-Wonder-Girl-shut-up-about-that-already.

The armored blonde was eyeing coolly, resisting his initial struggle to break free. After a moment, she spoke, "I think you got him."

Victor so wanted to argue that, but a look towards Four Arms revealed that the guy was slumping back in his crater, not moving at all except to show he was breathing. Hardly a threat to anybody.

"You good?" Cassie asked, still holding him down.

Victor took a deep breath, practically heaving. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

Cassie nodded. "Good. We still got one more fight left. Think you can handle it?"

Not bothering to run a quick scan, Victor nodded back. "Lady, there's still plenty of whoopass in my can."

* * *

The Warlords of Okaara prepared you for much. That including fighting two enemies at once. The exercise involved two opponents who were trying to eliminate you, and failure meant death. Obviously, Koriand'r had passed that portion of her training, though admittedly not with flying colors.

Battle was not the place or time to question yourself. She had made a decision to send Red Robin off while she handled this fight. There was no choice but to see it through.

The greater threat was Trogaar. He himself had received the same training as her and had on more than one occasion to put it to use. Controlled, calculating, and not a single movement wasted, that was his style. A warrior in every sense of the word. Warblade was much less disciplined in comparison, which was why she had been more dominant when facing him. His attacks were wild, but quick, always intending to commit some kind of harm.

Two different styles that she would have to be constantly adjusting to if she wanted to survive.

Trogaar was watching her, waiting for the Tamaranian to make the first move. Warblade was going in for the attack. It was obvious what she needed to do. As Warblade's weaponized hand stabbed towards her, Koriand'r was turning her body, keeping Trogaar in her peripheral while catching and using Warblade's arm as a fulcrum to throw him.

The younger fighter flipped in the air and landed on his feet while his alien comrade was dashing in. A large fist grazed by her face as the Tamaranian tilted her head to the side. She was twisting her body around the second fist to dodge that one, then whipping her head from side to side as additional punches were thrown.

From behind the Gordanian, Warblade appeared over the slaver, a foot stepping onto Trogaar's broad shoulder and using it as a launchpad to leap at her, his blades extended before him. Koriand'r fell back, catching both of the masked fighter's wrists to hold back the deadly weaponry. As her back met with the floor, she pulled her legs up, knees to her chest, and feet in Warblade's stomach, and pushed up, propelling her masked attacker past her.

Momentum kept her moving, her body almost perpendicular with the floor. She allowed herself to complete the roll she had fallen into as her other opponent stomped her foot in the space she had previously occupied. Koriand'r continued rolling as stomp after stomp came after her.

Pressing her hands on the floor, she pushed herself high up into the air, flipping so that now her feet were angled towards the floor. As she descended, she turned to deal with another attack from Warblade.

The blade-wielder had lept up in the air after her, and an extended arm swinging in a slash-like movement. Careful of the blades, she evaded the slash and placed a hand on the back of his head, pushing none too gently and disrupting his jump enough that he was falling gracelessly back to the floor.

Barely had her feet returned to floor when she was on the defense again, Trogaar attempting to land several blows on her. His accuracy prevented a simple evasive tactic, so blocking and parrying was required. The first blow had to be blocked with her lower arms crossed in front of her, the force of the attack causing them to tremble. The second was parried quickly, blocking being selected as an action of last resort.

Her hands and lower arms pushed aside each attack as they came, Koriand'r's attention narrowing on her former owner. Two jabs were aimed at her face, a quick step back helping her to avoid them. A third was parried and followed by the Tamaranian throwing an attack of her own. Like she had earlier, Trogaar tilted his head out of the way, his face showing no signs of his physical exertion.

She followed up with a kick, trying to put some distance between the two of them. As her enemy obliged, she summoned her life energy into one hand and fired a bolt of it. Trogaar's evasive maneuver required more movement from him to dodge, but as she was about to fire a second bolt, hot pain seared into her back.

Coming in from her blind spot, Warblade had struck. His slash hand finally found her skin, and those blades were indeed sharp enough to cut through her epidermal shield. She had become too focused on her larger adversary, enough that she had begun to block out other potential hazards.

The shock of her injury left her open to further attack, Trogaar being the one who took advantage. His large fist connected with the side of her head, a second one landing in her torso region, then a third attack knocked her away where she slammed onto the floor, rolling against the surface until coming to a stop.

The Warlords of Okaara would have been most disappointed.

"Finally got you!" Warblade boasted. "I don't know what you have against me, but this is the last time you get in my way. No one gets between me and a kill and lives to tell about it."

As she picked herself up, Koriand'r retorted, "This is not the first I have done so, and yet I continue living. Mayhap you are the one who is lacking in skill."

"Oh, that's rich coming from the bitch I just tagged a second ago," Warblade sneered. "You're not going to recover from that any time soon. No, your clock is ticking and you're running out of time now."

"Cease your inane prattle," Trogaar rumbled.

Warblade turned his glowing face mask at the Gordanian. "Hey, don't get full of yourself. You follow my orders now."

"I obey only Brother Blood and you are not him," Trogaar stated, though Koriand'r recognized that his voice did not hold the arrogance she had become accustomed to. Her former master had underwent a change himself.

"That doesn't change the fact I outrank you," Warblade snarled back. "You listen to me now. Kill that flying orange over there so I can go after the brat that keeps getting away from me."

If Trogaar said anything in reply, the Tamaranian did not know. Though her back stung with the gashes inflicted on it, Koriand'r still raised both of her arms up and fired twin bolts of life energy, taking advantage of the distraction that opponents had involved themselves with.

Unsurprisingly, Trogaar was quick to notice the attack and evade. Warblade was clipped in the shoulder, crying out in surprise. Allowing her hands to be enveloped by green-glowing balls of her life energy, the Tamaranian continued firing bolt after bolt in the hope of incapacitating or weakening both of her opponents.

As the green bolts of life energy struck any surface they encountered, they detonated explosively, flinging little pieces of rock-based shrapnel in all directions. The small clouds of dust and particles began to obscure vision, hiding her opponents from view. Halting, she waited while holding her arms up, ready to continue her attack should she be provoked.

Provoked she would be. Warblade emerged from the particle-based cover in a rush, dashing his way over the distance between him and her. Immediately, Koriand'r fired off several bolts of life energy, Warblade revealing his maneuverability capabilities as he avoided each bolt.

Instead of becoming desperate as the distance between the two of them closed, the Tamaranian braced herself for the next hand-to-hand combat session. Leaping and kicking out, she blocked the leg blows sent out to her, fully ready for this. She had noticed that when he couldn't use his hands effectively, Warblade changed tactics to emphasize his lower body instead. A strategy to soften his opponent first before resume with his blades.

The solution to this was simple. Using an arm to clamp down on a leg, she spun her lithe enemy around and threw him at the wall of earth that had burst out of the floor earlier. His guard dropped because of surprise, Warblade smacked against the earthen surface and crumpled down to the floor.

Arms wrapped around her torso. Before Koriand'r could counterattack, she was lifted into the air, the world blurring vertically until her head impacted the floor. As the tips of her feet became leveled with her aching cranium, she was picked up again and slammed back down onto the floor, her skull again being the first part of her body to receive the full brunt of it.

A blow to her torso caused air to exit her body, a second blow snapped her head to a side, and several jabs to her side further broke down her defenses. For an instant, Koriand'r perceived the red eyes of Trogaar. That was accompanied with the realization that she was being held up in the air, her body dangling.

The grip that she now noticed around her throat vanished, but a mighty attack struck her and sent her across this large room to impact the far wall. The Tamaranian felt the surface give in behind her as her body sank into it, debris falling about her.

Lifting her head up, it took a moment for her blurry vision to correct itself, but by then Trogaar was almost within arms' length of her. The Gordanian wasted no time in assaulting her, ramming and slamming fist after fist into her, forcing her body deeper and deeper into the wall.

Stopping, the stronger alien gazed down at her impassive, much in the way he had always done. "You are finished," he stated. "You can battle no more. Give up. The only purpose you now have is to accept your role as my offering to my master. He will be most pleased with you."

Koriand'r wanted to laugh. From those words, it was apparent that her former master was now nothing more than a slave himself. This Brother Blood was powerful indeed to assert his will over someone with the character that Trogaar possessed. So was she to die here then? Another offering to satiate Brother Blood's ravenous hunger?

No. Not after everything. Not after escaping bondage, survival through an unknown world, and making the acquaintance of several of its inhabitants, fighting by their sides, protecting them…

Even though her body was sore, her back on fire from pain, Koriand'r refused to end it this way. She was not going to give Trogaar or Brother Blood the satisfaction of being a willing offering. She would expire first before she let that happen.

As her hand began to glow once more, she cried out when a fist smashed into it, breaking her concentration. For the first time, the ability that she had started this journey with failed her, sputtering out of existence.

"You continue to resist. Inconvenient," Trogaar stated. "It matters not that you live. Brother Blood will be satisfied with your blood alone."

The Gordanian raised his arm up, hand ready to cause grievous bodily harm to her. His fingers curled over his palm, and any second now, it would be greeting her face with all his strength.

Black power rammed into Trogaar from the side, throwing the Gordanian away with ease. Shocked at this turn of events, Koriand'r turned her head as much as she could to find Rachel, her dark-colored friend hovering in the air over the separating wall of earth and rock.

"Having a tough time?" Rachel asked calmly.

A small smile curved the Tamaranian lips. "Yes, it has indeed been a time of toughness."

Floating her way over to the alien exile, Rachel aided in freeing her from the imprisoning wall. "Do you need some help?"

"It would be most appreciated."

"What the hell?! Where do you people keep coming from!" The furious voice of Warblade bellowed as he too had returned to his feet. "Why do you all have the need to interrupt my fights!"

"A charming one, isn't it?" Rachel commented wryly.

"No, he is most not charming," Koriand'r disagreed.

"That was sarcasm," Rachel told her.

"What is sarcasm?" she wondered.

"Never mind. I'll handle Trogaar. You deal with Warblade," the dark-colored human said.

"I will have to disobey. I will deal with Trogaar," the Tamaranian refused.

"You're not in the best condition to do so," Rachel replied. "I'll be able to hold him off. Neutralize Warblade then we can both deal with Trogaar. Know your strength, Koriand'r."

The Tamaranian wanted to argue...but the soreness of her body was screaming at her to accept the strategy. It was a tough decision to come to, and necessity would have to overpower personal want this time.

"I shall remove Warblade from this conflict immediately," she stated as she unwillingly turned her back in the direction of her powerful antagonist to face off with the lesser of the two opponents.

Said opponent was on his feet, though his legs were unsteady. It appeared he was not one who was used to physical injury, more than likely dominating his prey at every turn instead. When an equal appeared and gave as much as they received, Warblade weakened under such pressure.

Or perhaps that was her attempt to convince herself that fighting him would not take too much time.

Unable to hide a wince, the gashes on her back reminding her of their presence, she took up a stance and waited for the bizarrely dressed human to choose his course of action. Behind the Tamaranian, she could hear the sounds of combat as Rachel began her battle with the Gordanian commander.

Warblade flexed his fingers, the sharpened blades gleaming. "You know, I'm really getting tired of you."

"It is mutual," Koriand'r said.

An odd sound echoed from behind his mask. Probably a snort. Humans tended to do that sometimes, usually in moments of contempt. Then Warblade acted on his contempt, rushing at with his arms extended from his body.

The slashing attacks were easily dodged as the masked human's body language gave away his intentions. First the right arm, then the left. Right, left, right again, then a reverse with the right arm. All slashes, all with lethal intent. A stab was approaching, and here it came. Clenching a fist, she brought it upwards in an uppercut, striking the side of the lowest blade and snapping off. As her counterattack continued, she broke off each subsequent blade until the four on his right arm had been removed and relocated to the floor.

Warblade brought up his damaged hand to examine the damage, an action that most likely had the intention of lasting a second. Koriand'r took advantage of that second and threw a basic punch. Her knuckles met with the back of Warblade's hand and forced the appendage into his masked face, knocking him back a couple feet.

Recapturing his balance, the glowing visage glared at her and threw no words or quips. He lunged, resorting to his kicks once more, those blows easily blocked and parried. The difficulty of this battle was decreasing with every passing second.

The bladed left hand made an abrupt slash, and only quick reflexes allowed the Tamaranian to throw up a defense, knocking the attack away. The tips of the blades nearly scraped the sides of her face, which exposed how close and unexpected the slash was.

However, now that it was knocked to a side, Warblade was overextended. It was simple enough to swing her arm around and strike him in his ribs. Bones gave way against her strength, unable to withstand the force. She followed up with a blow to the stomach region, then another one to the glowing, grinning mask, cracking it.

Warblade fell back, his movements awkward and jerky. His body was heaving, his shoulders rising up and down exaggeratedly with each breath he took.

"How?" the masked human's voice cracked.

Koriand'r did not answer. Gathering her life energy into one hand, she lunged forward, already anticipating the attempted dodge. Determined to end the threat posed by this Ravager, and desiring to return to fighting Trogaar, the Tamaranian did not hold back as she threw her glowing fist forward, allowing the energy to detonate upon contact with her opponent.

Warblade was flung back, crashing into a wall and flopping harmlessly onto the floor, small tendrils of smoke rising from his body. Giving a customary period of time for him to pick himself up, when Warblade remained prone, Koriand'r turned her sights on Rachel and the Gordanian foe.

Rachel had summoned a shield around herself, spherical in shape, and was withstanding blow after blow Trogaar threw at it, trying to force his way past it. How long her dark-appareled comrade would last was unknown, and it was an answer she did not wish to learn.

Taking a step forward, she paused as her body reminded her of the soreness it was experiencing, along with the gashes in her back. One more second was needed to push such sensations to the back of her mind. There would be time enough later to give in to those physical feelings.

Leaping forth, Koriand'r covered her fist in her life energy once more, throwing the attack forward at the Gordanian. Without looking at her, Trogaar caught the fist and clamped down on it, the detonating energy not budging the larger hand. Then a fist was connecting with her face, and it was her turn to flying backwards, her body bouncing off the floor once before coming to a skidding stop.

To address the threat she had once posed, Trogaar had inadvertently made himself vulnerable. Recognizing this, Rachel dismissed her shield for but a second and fired a blast of her black magic point blank into the Gordanian.

Pushing herself up, Koriand'r looked over the battle still in progress. Rachel was firing more of her magic blasts at Trogaar, who was taking evasive maneuvers, dodging each one coming his way. He had already adjusted to the cloak-wearing human, allowing her to exhaust herself first before finishing her off.

Getting to her feet, the Tamaranian watched carefully, determining that a frontal assault would be to her disadvantage. Perhaps if she was in better physical condition, that would be an option.

If direct confrontation was not feasible, then what did she have left? If not her fists, then…

Eyes beginning to glow with the same green light as that of her energy, Koriand'r bellowed, "Restrain him!" She cared not how it was done, just that it was.

Rachel showed no sign of hearing her, but her immediate actions proved that she had. Throwing her arms out, her legs spread widely, the cloak-wearing human formed two black, wing-like projectiles of what was most certainly her magic. Bringing her arms together, the wings reciprocated, almost flapping together.

Remarkably, these wings stretched unnaturally, closing in on Trogaar. The Gordanian was already aware of what they were up to, was already trying to put some distance between himself and the two females. The unforeseen ability that Rachel's wings possessed rendered such a strategy moot. The two wings slammed onto either side of the former slaver and held fast to their captive despite his struggles.

Now it was the Tamaranian's turn. Focusing more life energy into both of her hands than she had ever tried before, she held her two appendages close together, allowing the energy to mingle and grow all that more stronger. A ball took shape before her, growing bigger and bigger as she applied more and more energy into it.

As her arms began to tremble from the unexpected pressure of putting that much life energy into such a small amount of space, she let out a cry of fury as she fired the largest bolt she had ever created. This bolt, however, was more of a continuous blast, one that struck Trogaar head on since he had been unable to free himself.

There was no detonation, though. The life energy impacted then flowed around him, mixing with the magic that made up Rachel's wings. Green and black obscured the sight of the Gordanian, and Koriand'r continued to fire more and more of this powerful blast. She put all of her anger, her fury, her indignation, every negative emotion she had ever felt towards this monster, and poured it out of her.

The second her life energy became unstable, it had the reaction of finally detonating, amplified with Rachel's black-colored magic. The backlash was enough to throw the Tamaranian off her feet, ended her continuous blast. Instead of landing on the floor or running into another surface, she was cushioned by the same magic that had once held her Gordanian enemy.

Feeling weak and exhausted, Koriand'r allowed her body to go limp, taking in deep breaths of air greedily. From beneath her eyelashes, she stared at the last location she had seen Trogaar, waiting and watching for any sign of him. Had this last attack been enough? Had it incapacitated him, thus eliminating whatever threat he posed?

Visibility returned, though each second caused her heart to beat faster and faster in anticipation. It took a moment, but she was able to zero in on Trogaar's prone form, his body pressed into a far wall with rubble and debris covering much of him. He made no movements or gave any signs of life.

The Tamaranian found that she did not care whether he was still operational or not.

Sensing another presence, she lazily turned her head enough to see Rachel hovering close by, expressing signs of exhaustion herself. However, the oddly-skinned human was watching her carefully.

"Did you get it all out of your system?" Rachel asked neutrally.

Koriand'r took a moment to think over the question thoroughly. "Yes. I believe I have."

"Are you able to walk on your own?"

Another moment. "I do not think...I may need some time to recuperate my own energies. I have expended so much more than intended."

"How long do you need?"

"Are you able to lend me a few minutes?"

Rachel seemed to think over it. "I'll give you what I can. This is not yet over. We still need to deal with Blood, and it would be best to have all of us able to fight, yes?"

Sound reasoning.

"I will endeavor to recover as quickly as possible."

* * *

Probably shouldn't have started off with the explosive birdarang. Now he was out, and Blood was not happy with him.

Blood was swiping at him, the tips of those fingers appearing sharper all of a sudden now that they were trying to gouge themselves into his body. It was almost like fighting Warblade, just without the more obvious knife-like fingers and glowing mask. The fighting style was kinda similar though—

A punch in the gut and kick to the side stopped that train of thought. The teen vigilante would say it was a little awesome that he didn't lose his balance, instead his feet skidded against the floor, but those hits had hurt. Really hurt. He really needed to work on his defense.

But Blood wasn't finished with him. Not yet. Not letting the masked teen get a chance to breathe, cape whipping about behind him, the cult leader tackled the vigilante, bringing a knee sharply into the teen's stomach then laying a jackhammer into his back while he was bent over.

Spittle flew out of Red Robin's mouth as he was smack-downed onto the floor in record time. Not even Dick had been so quick before.

A foot stomped onto him, but he resisted making a peep, as much as he had wanted to.

"Normally, I like to enjoy my play time, but now is not a good time," Blood said, speaking casually as if talking about the weather. "I'm going to need you to be good now, but since I can't trust you to do that on your own…"

Bending down, Blood reached down and pressed a finger against Red Robin's cheek and drew it upward, drawing blood. Then an unbelievably powerful force seemed to wrap around him, freezing his body.

"There. You stay there," Blood said as he stood back up and strolled away, returning to his developing portal. "This would be a hell of a time for you to do something stupid, like interfere when what I want is within my reach."

Though his body was paralyzed, Red Robin found he still had some control over his neck. He was able to move his head enough so that he could watch Blood approach the pool of blood with the disc-shaped portal hovering over it. If he tilted his head just right, he could eye the prone form of Garfield hanging over it.

Opening his mouth, the vigilante attempted to speak but found that no sound left. Oh great, he couldn't talk. He could move his head around but not say anything. Where was the logic with that?

Ripples were distorting the portal now, making the red-colored interdimensional doorway more and more solid. Time was running out for him to, you know, do something to stop whatever it was that was going on. But of course, the one time it all depended on him...and he had to mess it up.

Why did this feel like Two-face all over again?

"I can feel it," Blood breathed in awe, his voice airy. "So much power on the other side. And it will all be mine. Finally, after all this time."

Was it just him, or did it feel like some other force was prickling his own being? Now it was feeling like a pull, one that came from that portal. This was really making the masked teen uncomfortable and he wanted more than anything to put some distance between himself and, well, and all _this_.

High above, Garfield's body twitched, his face slightly grimacing. Unconscious, even he could feel that force emanating from the portal.

The ripples were becoming stronger now, the magic-based entrance becoming more physical, a pure distortion in the fabric of reality. Abruptly, the ripples stopped, the sensation of something snapping into place washing all over those in the immediate vicinity. Pure red swirled into the interdimensional gateway, open to whomever wished to use it.

"So beautiful," Blood cooed. "Not even my wildest dreams…"

"All hail Brother Blood," Mayhem spoke. At some point, the robed woman had stepped up to the bizarrely-dressed man's side and stood behind and beside him.

"It's time. Time for me to claim my destiny," Blood declared as he took a step forward. "All life shall serve me, as it always should have. No more skulking in the dark. No more masquerading. I can be what I always wanted to be, and no one will oppose me. Never again."

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap! He didn't understand everything Blood was saying, but Red Robin knew none of it was good. Come on, Drake, move your Goddamn body already! Do something! Anything! You had to stop this, somehow! Get. UP!

Blood stretched out a hand, reaching for the portal. Closer and closer he drew to it, from feet to mere inches. No, no, no, no, stop it, don't do what you're planning to do!

And then a rope lassoed the hand, wrapping around the wrist and jerking it away. The unexpected intervention caused Blood to stumble back and away from the portal. Planting a leg strongly on the floor, Blood snapped his head around to glare at the one responsible for ruining his moment.

"I got a feeling that letting you anywhere near that thing is a bad thing," Cassie quipped as she adjusted her grip on her glowing rope. Victor stood beside her, his arm transformed into its cannon form.

"The Ravagers are seriously losing their touch," Blood growled to himself. Aloud, "You kiddies are starting to cramp my style. I have no time for your shit."

"Make time," Cassie retorted as she yanked on the rope.

Blood's eyes flashed red. Abruptly, Red Robin's body began to move by itself, jerking onto its feet. Initially, his movements were robotic, and clunky, no offense to the resident cyborg, but grew smoother with each passing second. Without his consent, the teen vigilante's body took up an offensive stance, ready to go onto the attack.

Of course, he was facing the cavalry…

"What the hell?" Cassie muttered, frowning at the masked teen.

"Something's not right about this," Victor said, narrowing his human eye.

"If you children insist on being pests, then I have no choice but to exterminate you," Blood seethed as he fully turned to face the two teens. "Such a shame too," he added, his gaze studying Cassie's form. "If only you had shown up later, you could have lived to become a fine servant. You still can."

"Sorry, but I don't serve anybody, least of all creepy old men," Cassie retorted as she pulled on her rope.

Surprisingly, Blood pulled back and cancelled out the armored blonde's strength. Red Robin almost swore he heard the older man say to himself, "Old?" but that could have been his imagination.

What wasn't his imagination was when Blood snapped at him, "Make yourself useful. Stall them."

Oh God, he could feel his body readying itself for a fight. Noticing the confusion Cassie and Victor expressed when they saw him beginning to face them off, he also spotted movement behind them.

"We shed our lives. We shed our flesh."

"Those guys again!" Victor exclaimed, looking over his shoulder. More of Blood's cultist followers were coming out of the woodwork—er, tunnels? Hallways?—and blocking off all exits.

"Oh yes, those guys," Blood confirmed, smirking. "They may be mindless, but they're mine. And they shall rip the flesh from your bones and spill your blood, all for me. You're the ones who came here for a fight, and now you receive it. Don't come complaining to me if you're unhappy about it."

And then Red Robin felt his body moving of its own volition, leading the attack against his comrades.


	25. Battle Until Gaia Swallows All

Battle Until Gaia Swallows All

His mind was aware of the pain first, pain that seemed to come from all over his body. It was not something he or anyone else would want to wake up to.

The next thing he was aware of were the sounds of grunts, yelling, moving feet, people being hit, bodies landing on the floor, and pretty much any noise that went along with an all-out brawl. Somebody was having a fight and it was close.

Would he open his eyes, and check out what was going on? The pain throbbing around his body, especially in his torso and arms made a convincing argument not to. Besides, what would seeing what was up do?

It wasn't like Garfield had anything waiting for him out there. He was so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why hadn't he listened? When Terra warned him, when that mean mind-reading chick yelled at him, why didn't he listen? Why'd he have to wait for Brother Blood to confirm to him what everyone else had said?

Because he was stupid, that's why. Even now, his memory still didn't tell him anything of his life before Brother Blood. It was all blank, wisps of events teasing him but never letting him get his green hands on them. Always out of reach, never letting themselves be caught, and if he got too close, another kind of pain would push him away.

Maybe it was better not to remember. To remember absolutely nothing. To not remember the quiet and personal times with Terra, to not remember being held against his will by a bunch of kids about his age, maybe older. To not remember having fun with Cyborg playing video games, or talking with Kori about anything.

To not remember any kind of dream he had of...of...what did it matter? Nothing mattered anymore.

Just another idiot, he didn't listen to any of the facts and look where that got him. It was no wonder why he had nothing. No friends. No parents. No home. Nothing.

So he should just stay here, wherever that was, and just be. Existing, not living. Hearing the sounds of a fight nearby but not even giving it the time of day to open his eyes and look at it.

Because nothing mattered anymore.

* * *

"We shed our lives. We shed our flesh. We shed our blood for him."

Pounding her fist into the mouth of one of these cultist creeps was very satisfying. Too bad there were like a hundred more saying that same Goddamn thing, and annoying the armored blonde to no end.

But wait, there was more. For some reason or another, that prick Red Robin was joining them. That made no sense, none at all, and Cassie didn't like it when things did not make any sense. When that happened, she had the incredible urge to punch something, and oh yeah, wasn't Red Robin volunteering to be punched?

Blocking a high kick that she never knew the masked prick to be able to do, and doing a backflip to avoid the next couple of punches, and ending with ramming both of her feet into two chanting cultists behind her told Cassie that yes, that was definitely Red Robin volunteering to be punched.

Far be it from her to refuse him. She still had a lot of frustration over him coopting her home into a hostel for runaway kids and aliens. If he was going to be a bigger prick and be on the bad guy's side, that was just a bonus reason.

The blonde lunged at the dark-haired vigilante, throwing a couple jabs his way. Red Robin blocked each one, knocking them to a side with ease. After one fist tried to strike him in the chest, but also got blocked, Red Robin rushed in and gave her a one-two-three combo. First hit was in the ribs, second was the stomach, and third was the chin, and back she stumbled.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around her, the cultists chanting loudly in her ears, "We shed our lives. We shed our flesh. We shed our—"

With a loud cry, Cassie used her incredible strength to rip her arms out of their grasps then threw her elbows back and into their faces. Could feel cartilage giving way as noses were broken

And Red Robin was back, jumping in the air and swinging a leg out, kicking at her head. Cassie brought an arm up and blocked, though the force behind the leg was strong enough to send her skidding away. Something was really messed up about that.

At about that time, Victor was back-to-back with her, facing off with more of those cultists. "Okay, what's up with him?" he demanded, not taking his eyes off the encircling crowd.

"I have no idea," Cassie grumbled back, her blue eyes focused solely on the vigilante.

"This is a hell of a time for him to jump ship and switch sides," Victor added, his voice full of frustration.

"No idea why he thought now was a good time. Wasn't he trying to help us save our lives?" she replied. "I don't like this."

"You ain't kidding," Victor agreed.

"He's also fighting better," the armored blonde complained. "It's like he took some classes and became Bruce Lee in an hour. Was he holding back on me this whole time?"

"No idea about any of that. You tell me," Victor hollered as he fired a blast from that arm cannon of his, warding away some of the cultists who were trying to move in on them.

"You mind keeping them busy?" she asked loudly. "I'll handle Red Robin, see if I can't punch some sense into his head."

"Do what you gotta do," Victor agreed.

A vote of confidence if there ever was one. Taking in a deep breath, Cassie launched herself forward, dashing towards her former vigilante comrade. Not that they were comrades in the first place; they just happened to be fighting for the same side recently, that's all.

Two cultists tried to get in her way, but like a football player, she crashed through them and knocked them to the sides like they were bowling pins. She threw a punch, a devastating one she would add as she was not holding anything back. Turned out to be a useless punch as Red Robin leapt up, his body flipping as he threw his hands downward. Landing on top of her fist, Red Robin balanced on those two gloved hands of his for a second before finishing the flip, bringing a foot down in an axe kick.

Luckily for her, Cassie still had a free arm that she was about to raise up and block with. To her surprise, her gauntleted arm shook from the force that kick landed with. Whoa, that was definitely new.

Pushing her arm back, Cassie watched as Red Dick here move with the flow, flipping over himself to land on his feet easily. It was so freaking effortless, it pissed her off. Had he been holding back on her? Because he had never shown such skill before.

"What's the deal?" she demanded, wanting to get to the bottom of this.

The Red Asshole answered by attacking instead, choosing fists over words. She dodged and ducked each one that came her way, blocking a kick here and there, but keeping up. So this was the way he wanted it? Fine. She could really use this to release some frustration.

As she herself got into the flow of this fight, she paid no mind to the fact that, despite the mask, Red Robin's eyes were wide and in no way narrowed as was natural in a fight.

* * *

Terra could hear the sounds of action from where she sat on the floor, her back pressed up against the corridor's wall, and her legs bent in front of her. She rested her arms against her knees and did her best to ignore all the noise, the yells and screams, and the occasional explosion. At least, it sounded like there were explosions in there.

A part of her wanted to be in there, joining it. However, she knew better. Blood already had his claws into her. She'd be made to fight against the people she had originally been sent to kill. The problem was, theirs was the side she wanted to be on.

They were her ticket out of here and she couldn't use them. They'd have to do all the work.

So she would sit here and let things play out. It sucked. For once, all she wanted was some control over her life. She used to have control over herself, or powers at least, but even now that hum was really testing her. Yes, it was back and with a vengeance. Things would be a little bit more bearable if only that hum wasn't…

Oh, who was she kidding? She had never had control over anything. All her choices had always been made by other people. Yeah, sure, she had plans to leave, but a big part of her knew that there was no way they'd ever succeed. Once Blood got control of you, that was it. You were his. End of story.

At least, that's what she had been told. Funny how he hadn't been able to figure where Gar had gone to when he was missing. Had that kid found a way out of Blood's power? If so, why hadn't he shared? That would have been something good to know about.

Terra frowned. Though that hum was insistent, it had fluctuated a bit. She was being told something. And that something was...someone was coming.

Appearing down the corridor, the other two girls who had voluntarily stayed behind to fight off the Ravagers came into view. From under her arm, the blonde geokinetic could see them. Well, good news for the others fighting it out with Blood. Their reinforcements had arrived.

Terra didn't move though, content with remaining where she was. Again, there wasn't a lot she could do here.

"Why are you sitting there?"

Huh? Looking up, Terra found that the girl with the cloak was right in front of her, looking down on her. She didn't look curious or angry or anything. Nope, that face was blanker than a blank sheet of paper.

"Don't mind me, your friends could use your help," she said dismissively. She even gestured with a hand, shooing the cloak-wearing girl away.

"And why aren't you also helping?" the dark-haired girl questioned in response.

"It's complicated. I'd be more of a problem than help to anyone. So get in there already. You're just wasting time here." Listen to her, for once. Let someone actually listen to what she had to say.

"Now you're confusing me. First you want to help us, now you want to sit there and let us do the work without you," the cloak-wearing girl said. "What is it you're trying to accomplish? How do your actions, from volunteering to lead us to where we need to go to sitting on the sidelines doing nothing help you?"

"It doesn't matter. If I go in there, I'd be more of a liability. The best thing I can do for you people is sit right here doing nothing. The moment I go in there, it's over. So stop being confused, stop asking questions, and get in there and help already!" Why was this such a difficult thing for her to understand? She doing you guys a favor by staying put!

"What about Garfield? Based on your actions, I'm led to believe you're the one he called Terra," the cloak-wearing girl continued. "From what he told me about you, you have a cool head on your shoulders. You are friends. Why then are you not trying to help him?"

"Because everyone here is under Blood's control, okay? Even me. I have no choice. I go in there, he makes me one of those zombies he has walking around here, and I make things worse. Is that what you wanted to know? Now stop wasting time. The longer you stay out here talking with me, the closer your friends are to being killed, or worse, being made his slaves. So be heroes already and save them!"

By now, she was full out glaring at this idiot who seemed more keen on wasting time than anything. Just because you had special powers didn't mean you were invincible. If anything, it put a target on your back that screamed for people to try and use you however they wanted to. In having power, you were powerless.

Cloak girl looked like she wanted to say more, but the orange-skinned woman put her hand on the cloak-wearing girl's shoulder and said, "She has her reasons for staying out of the battle. We can only honor them and move on. Now come, our comrades are fighting for their lives."

Finally. Finally someone who made sense, and Terra didn't even know who the hell she was.

The cloak-wearing girl was quiet for a moment, a moment too long in the blonde's opinion. "Very well. Do what you feel you need to do. We'll do what we need to do. That doesn't change the fact that I feel somewhat disappointed. I had a high opinion of you before. For being so close to Garfield, I thought you would have done more."

Satisfied that she had the last word, the cloak-wearing girl set off down the hallway, the orange-skinned woman following after her. The sounds of fighting were only going to get louder once those two showed up.

However, now Terra was pissed off. Who the hell did that bitch think she was? Even after she had explained herself, that moron still thought…? What idiots had Gar teamed up with? At least the other one saw sense, but that didn't make the geokinetic feel any better.

Because she would love nothing more than to ram a boulder up Blood's ass and tell him that's what she thought about his "charity." Because more than anything, she wanted control over her own life, to be able to make decisions and choices that were hers and hers alone, without anyone else butting in.

Terra could feel the earth tremble around her, anticipating some action itself. It would have to be denied, though for how long she did not know. The only thing that was certain was that that hum was getting worse.

* * *

This was not going well. On top of Blood bringing in all those mindless cultists, he had him, Red Robin, doing his dirty work for him too. It was weird how no matter how hard he tried, the masked teen could not get his body to do what he wanted. Instead, it was doing what Blood wanted, which was fighting the team of teens that had come with him to this place.

It grated on his nerves that he seemed to be fighting better under the mind/body/whatever control Blood had over him. If only he could perform this way on his own.

Like right now, he was doing a spin kick that he hadn't known he was ever capable of. Cassie, meanwhile, was ducking under it and darting in for a quick strike. His body leaned to a side, letting the fist barely graze by his torso. Then it threw his elbow back and to Cassie's face, the blonde tilting her head to a side in time to avoid it, barely.

The armored blonde brought her knee up. Blocked. His body tried to uppercut. Dodged. Cassie slammed her palm into the inside of the elbow, causing his arm to involuntarily bend. Snagging his lower arm, Cassie pulled down and flipped him over.

His back did not make friends with floor. Instead, his feet landed first and his knees bent at a ninety degree angle, the rest of his body parallel with the floor except for his arms which were grasping at Cassie's. Using her as leverage, his body spun around so that it could regain its balance, his front facing downwards now.

Then his body pulled itself closer and knocked Cassie's arm aside. A one-two hit combo was landed in her stomach and a kick added for good measure, shoving the blonde back. It was all so smooth and nowhere near his actual level of skill. What the hell?

"This is really starting to piss me off," Cassie growled as she glared at him. Her hands were over her gut region, shielding it from further harm. As she raised them up, it was revealed that that part of her body now had armor covering it. That had been something he had noticed back on the Gordanians' ship. Was he doing enough damage to cause that armor of hers to respond defensively?

Now, he would have liked to have said something, but again Blood's control prevented him. His body, on the other hand, wanted to communicate with its fists, which is what it did, rushing in for another attack.

For once—he couldn't believe this—Red Robin was rooting for the blonde to somehow kick his ass. So when she went on the defense instead, blocking and parrying the punches and kicks his body sent her way, he could only yell fruitlessly in his head for her not to do that. Come on, she was always the aggressive one when the two first came to blows!

Finally, after blocking a particularly vicious punch to her face, Cassie broke through his body's defense and managed to land a blow of her own, striking the right side of his chest. Pain blossomed from the hit point, and despite not having control over his own body, he could still feel it. Oh, come on! Why did he have to feel things but not be able to do anything? It wasn't right!

And now he was rethinking his earlier desire for her to kick his ass.

Cassie abruptly backed away, taking a defensive stance as if waiting for something. Recovering from the earlier hit, Red Robin's body charged forward. The masked teen noticed how Cassie frowned, the frown changing to an expression of concentration as she resumed a more aggressive defense, blocking and parrying once more.

When one of his arms shot out to strike her, the armored blonde reached up and trapped it with one of her arms. Reaching around his back and grabbing his opposite shoulder, she spun him around and locked his body in a one-armed hold, her other arm restraining the one it had snatched.

"Not gonna use your toys?" she taunted in his ear. "Thought you would have used them by now."

Would he have? Let him think...huh, yeah, he would've. Was that why she had backed away a minute ago? Because she was expecting him to pull something out of his belt? Not that there was much left since he had pretty much exhausted it by now.

Struggling to free itself, his body raised both his legs up and threw them down, rocking itself in the stronger blonde's hold. Oh, it was trying to throw her over it. Let go Cassie, quickly!

Instead, Cassie heaved up, grunting as she did, then pushed forward. The force she used was enough to send the both of them falling flat on the floor. An "oomph!" escaped his throat, the first sound that had come out of the vigilante since he first lost control of his body.

Quickly, the armored blonde snagged and restrained both of his arms, pinning them against his back. To add to his discomfort, she pressed her knee into his lower back.

"That's enough out of you. Now snap out of it. What's the deal with you picking a fight?" Cassie demanded as she resisted his body's attempt to squirm out of its compromised position.

"We shed our lives."

"Hold on a second," she said as she pressed all her weight on her knee and kicked out with her other leg, nailing the mindless cultist and sending the guy flying away like a ragdoll.

Unfortunately, all that weight really did a number on his back. Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, Ow, Ow, OW! Christ! You were going to break something down there! Ah, okay, she was back into a crouching position and taking a lot of her weight off her knee.

"Where were we? Right. Had enough yet?" Cassie taunted. "Just say uncle and I might think about letting you go."

His body flopped helplessly beneath her might.

"C'mon Red, if you wanted a rematch, you could have waited until after we finished this shit up," the armored blonde complained. "Are you having your time of the month or something?"

"Allow me."

What the? When did Rachel…?

Two hands were placed on either side of his face and then this cold, dark sensation flooded into his head and throughout his body. It was like he was drowning; he couldn't breathe or move, and he had the terrible feeling he was sinking. Sinking into what, he couldn't explain or describe.

Then he felt himself slump, that unnatural sensation exiting him as quickly as it had entered. Red Robin gasped as he sucked in large amounts of air like he couldn't get enough of the sweet stuff.

"You can let him go now," Rachel's calm voice said.

"I'd rather take my chances," Cassie retorted, tightening her grip on his wrists.

"I—It—sss," he stopped to let out a cough, his voice surprisingly hoarse. "It...s alright. I...I'm back."

"Whoa, why do you sound like that?" He could hear the surprise in the blonde's voice.

"Couldn't...couldn't control myself. Body...not mine." There, get out the most information you could in a short amount of time. "Blood. Took it away."

"You're not making any sense, Red," Cassie stated blandly.

"An outside force had seized control of his bodily movements," Rachel explained matter-of-factly. "He was not in control of himself while you two were fighting. At least, he wasn't during the portion of the fight I witnessed."

"What makes you so sure he's free now, that is if he was being mind controlled in the first place? Cassie questioned, still not taking anything at face value.

"You...said it yourself. Didn't...use...any of...my toys." Red Robin grimaced at the last word he said because damn it, they weren't toys, as fun as they were to use. "Would have...used some by now. Don't'cha think?"

"Enough, let him up. If he tries anything, I think the two of us can more than handle him," Rachel ordered.

There was a moment where nothing happened, probably a glaring contest of some sort, before Cassie finally relinquished her hold on him and granted his lower back some relief from that knee of hers. Oh, that was so much better.

"Red Robin, now's not the time for you to rest. We have work to do," Rachel continued. "Where's Blood. Where's Garfield?"

"Don't know where Blood is. He's somewhere around here." Oh, how nice, his voice was returning to him. "Garfield's hanging over that portal over there."

"Portal? What portal?" Cassie demanded. A second later, "Oh, that portal. What the hell is that thing?"

"Something Blood wants to enter, we can't let him," Red Robin told her as he began to push himself onto his knees.

"Right," Cassie said distantly.

"I will retrieve Garfield," Kori spoke up. Whoa, when did she get here? "I ask that you prevent any resistance I might face."

"You got it," Cassie agreed. For some reason, Red Robin had the image of her cracking her knuckles pop up in his head. Then a light nudge in his side bothered him. "On your feet, Red. We got work to do."

Why did he want to be a crimefighter again?

* * *

With a blast of black-colored magic, Rachel cleared the way ahead of them for Kori to attempt her rescue. The sight of the green-skinned boy was not one foreign to her, unfortunately. While the Tamaranian was making her way towards him, the cloak-wearing girl followed, allowing Cassie and Red Robin to clean up behind her.

She had a plan of her own. While the others dealt with Blood and his forces, she would use the information that Red Robin had provided and deal with the interdimensional portal that was practically the proverbial red-colored elephant in the room. The goal was not to let Blood enter it, so it stood to reason that the fastest way to end this was to close the portal itself.

Breaking away from Kori's flank, she approached hovering disc, her feet landing on the dais before it. The churning reds were almost hypnotic, and for a mystic such as herself, it was very mesmerizing.

Detecting the multiple sources of magical energies fueling the portal from the three witches that stood behind it, almost blocked out of sight, Rachel knew this was going to be a fight. Those three would not simply allow her to close it shut, so all her energies would be needed for this.

A shame it wasn't going to be easy.

Focusing herself, the words Azarath Metrion Zinthos on the tip of her tongue, she was about to begin her assault when movement within the portal distracted her. Unable to resist curiosity, she took a harder look into it and forgot the world around her.

* * *

Cold, unfeeling metal was the only thing holding him up, warmed only by his body heat. It wasn't the most comfortable of support, but it wasn't like the green-skinned boy was complaining. He had put himself in this position anyway. No way could anyone else be blamed for it.

The sounds of fighting were only getting louder, yet it said something that he was able to ignore it.

Then a supporting chain disappeared, followed by a second. A source of warmth that was unbelievably hot was pressing up against him, making him forget all about the chains. It was enough to make him willingly open his eyes and see what was going on around him.

The first thing Garfield was able to see was the strong image of Kori, sweet Kori, looming over him as she tore the last remaining restraining him off, holding him against her like he was a baby.

It was a really nice feeling. He wished it could last

There was a feeling of being lowered, though he wasn't being removed from Kori's hold on him. If anything, she was holding him tightly, like she was afraid she might drop him.

Noticing that he was looking up at her, Kori asked, "Who has harmed you so, young Gar? You have so many injuries!"

Was...was she worried about him? Why? Why should she be worried about a guy like him? He was a stupid idiot who didn't listen to others.

"Why?" he croaked out.

Kori tilted her head to a side. It made her look cute. "Why what, my friend?"

Friend? What? Never mind.

"What are you doing here?" he rephrased his question. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why would I not be here?" Kori looked genuinely confused, like she was really wondering why he was asking such a question.

All Garfield could do was stare back. He didn't really understand that reply, no matter how hard he tried to wrap his head around it. Why wouldn't she be here? Why would she want to be here?

"I don't...I don't understand." That was the only thing he could say to that. Because it didn't make any sense. None.

"Have you suffered brain trauma? Are you maimed in locations I am as of now unable to make eye contact with? Is there an injury hiding under that tight-fitting garment you wear around your waist? Shall I check for certainty?"

"No!" he squeaked out as a kind yet incredibly strong hand reached down for his shorts. His hands immediately went down to cover/protect his only source of modesty from being disturbed, no matter what helpful intentions Kori had.

Such movement reminded him of the state he was in, muscles pulling skin that was littered with so many cuts, some deeper than others, others shallower. Didn't take away from the fact that they still hurt. A whimper escaped him as he settled bonelessly where he lied.

"Are your injures more dire than I had anticipated?" Kori asked, her face the very definition of worry.

"Why...do you care?" Another great question.

"Should I not care about your wellbeing?" the Tamaranian asked.

"What's in it for you? I'm a stupid loser who didn't listen to people and now look at me. I freaking deserve this. Because I'm stupid. So why? Why did you come here? I'm not worth it." Now it was all spilling out. The questions that had been in his head were finally given voice to.

"Have you forgotten already?" Now that was unexpected. Kori was asking a question as her answer instead of, you know, giving a straight answer.

"Forgotten what?" he said dryly.

"Not long ago, you yourself were volunteering to come to my aid," Kori told him. "When my former owner made threats against your planet for my return, did you not come to my defense, and engage in combat against his forces so that I did not have to return? I myself initially refused such aid, yet you gave it anyway. My gratitude knows no boundaries."

So this was what? Paying him back or something. Please, there were other people more worthy of it.

"You still shouldn't have come," he told her.

"But I did. Because I wanted to. Because if our situations were the opposite, I want to believe that you would do the same for me. That you would force your aid on me as I am now doing to you. Is that not what allies do on this planet?" Kori's so very green eyes had locked onto his, never wavering once as she spoke. When he didn't say anything, she continued, "I do not know everything you have been through. I do know betrayal, and I can see it in your eyes that you know what it means to experience it. The details of our tales may differ, but the emotions are all the same. Tell me, Gar, are you going to allow those that betrayed you to take your happiness from you, or will you fight them to the bitter end before you allow them to take it?"

"That all sounds so...nice, when you say it, but what's the point?" he sighed.

"Your lack of life is very depressing. If it would please you, I would visit righteous fury on those who have made you so." Kori released him, though after laying him out on the now very cold floor. "Rest now. I shall return, hopefully with victory."

"Why?" he blurted out once more.

"Did I not say so earlier? We are allies. Comrades. On my planet, you fight for and defend your comrades. After all, they are the closest you have to family," Kori told him. "And family...even if they hurt you, you still fight for them. Because there is nothing else."

Family, huh. But hadn't her family...no, her sister sold her into slavery, much like he had been? Yeah, that had happened. And then she had come to Earth and everything. A nice story, it was.

But...but here she was. Even after being hurt, she was still trucking. And when that alien guy was threatening to blow up the city, hadn't she decided to turn herself in first? She had, but they wouldn't let her. Those other guys. Cyborg and his cool as hell robot body. Wonder Chick and that armor that did not hide the places he liked to look at. He wasn't sure that was her real name, by the way.

Oh, and there was that Red Robin guy, not related to the restaurant or anything. Didn't really get to know him, but he seemed like the kind of guy who took things way too seriously. Kinda like that Rachel girl. Except, she was dark and no fun and kinda made him want to hide sometimes. Especially when she was mad.

He was forgetting someone, though. Felt like...felt like there was one more. Hmm. Who could it...oh yeah, he was with them too. He helped out, just like Kori said he had. Huh, that felt like a long time ago. Things had changed, he was different too.

A flare of light followed by a zapping explosion attracted his attention. Lifting his head up, for the first time he took in everything that was happening around him. He could see Kori firing bolts of that funky green energy of hers, pushing away Brother Blood's worshipers. Wonder Chick and Red Robin were mopping up those who avoided or were hit by the bolts. And over there, he could see that Rachel girl staring into the portal to the Red and nothing else. And guarding the portal were the three Sisters who freaked him out in ways not even that Rachel girl at her maddest had.

There was a lot of people in here, wasn't there? But weren't there supposed to be others? He didn't see any of the Ravagers, including Terra. That...also kinda hurt. He would have thought that she'd be here too. But wait, that's right, Brother Blood would've been able to...yeah, that makes some sense.

Hold on, there, over there, that was Cyborg. Awesome dude. He was here too with all the others. Oh, and there was Brother Blood too. The other worshipers were leaving those two alone, probably 'cause Brother Blood told them too.

Watching as Cyborg fire that energy cannon of his and Brother Blood stepping aside like he did such a thing all the time at first confused the green teen. Then he realized that the two of them were fighting. Whenever Brother Blood got too close, Victor would start throwing his metal fists around, trying to punch him. Brother Blood would move out of the way or catch any that got too close. Then he would do something like throw Cyborg around and onto his back without breaking a sweat. And then Cyborg would get back up, block some attacks from Brother Blood then try and attack back and on and on.

It was easy to tell that Cyborg wasn't getting anywhere. All he was doing was keeping Brother Blood busy, which made the big man himself angrier. Ah, Brother Blood was trying to be quick about this, but Cyborg wasn't letting him do what he wanted.

But then Brother Blood got two good hits in, and surprisingly, even though he was half-robot, Cyborg went down again. That could not be good. It was definitely not good.

Where were the others? Kori, Red Robin, Wonder Chick, and Rachel girl. Why weren't they helping? Why were they beating up all the worshipers? Didn't they see that Cyborg needed help? He could see it. He knew the robot man needed help.

He needed help. He needed...to help.

Garfield clenched his fist tightly.

* * *

"You're quite the unusual one."

Pushing himself up onto his feet, Victor glared at the weird man with the dinosaur skull on his head. With the way his eyes were glowing, the fact that none of the cult guys were getting close to him, and that he could hit like a freight train, he figured this was the big bad guy they needed to take down.

"And you look like you got dressed by someone who's color blind," the cybernetic teen retorted.

The man, Brother Blood, smirked. "You still have a sense of humor. Good. I always do enjoy beating it out of people. But I'm on a time table right now, so I won't be able to take my time like I normally would. A shame, really. I do believe it would be a challenge."

"How about I be a challenge right now!" Victor fired back, both figuratively and literally. A blast of energy from his arm cannon sliced through the air at the multi-colored freak. Blood stepped to a side, his hand cupping a pulsing red ball for some reason.

"You've shown me yours. Now I'll show mine," the amused man quipped as he held up that previously mentioned hand and—oh shit, what the hell! A red beam blasted towards the cyborg, and Victor leapt out of the way without any grace whatsoever.

Next thing he knew, Blood was right next to him, his other hand cupping another pulsing red ball and—fuck, he was going to shoot it point blank, wasn't he?

Blood did, and Victor cried out as his body was covered with crackling, red bolts. He still wasn't used to experiencing pain again, so that was a double whammy right there. He fell to the floor, not spasming since really, it was only the human part that felt anything.

"You're all cover with metal. Kinda makes it tough on me," Blood commented as he loomed over the half-robot. "Not a lot of places to really cut you up. Whoever gave you this really went out of their way to protect you." Don't you dare say that, asshole. "But they let one pretty big flaw. I can see your face—" a hand that looked like it had claws for fingertips approached that area of Victor's head, "—and that's where I will undo you. Again, a shame. I would have loved dismantling you..."

Blood paused, building up some suspense before he finished up that earlier train of thought he was having. Victor had a pretty good idea of what it was right as the now very intimidating man finished with a very soft yet evil tone of voice.

"...piece…"

Victor's human eye dilated, almost a pin prick as his fears were beginning to be realized.

"...by…"

He swallowed, already knowing what that next word would be.

"—oof!"

And Blood was gone.

Victor blinked his human eye dumbly. Well, couldn't say he had been expecting that.

A green colored paw stomped by his side, directing the cybernetic teen's gaze to the large, green bear that roared and then shifted into a cheetah, launching itself over him as it went into a sprint. Meanwhile, Blood was holding his arm, removing his hand from it to examine the blood that now stained it. He snapped his dinosaur-wearing head up, eyes glowing red, about to say something, but was headbutted by the bull that ran into him and thrown back as the animal tossed around its head.

The bull didn't waste a second as he kept charging, shifting into a gorilla that snagged Blood and threw him up into the air, soaring over the battlefield that filled the cavernous room. Jumping forth, the ape changed into a small falcon that sliced through the air, a green blur to the naked eye. Though his body was also in flight, Blood lifted his head up enough to get the green bird dead in his sights.

"Enough!" Blood roared at the bird, but only after this avian had shifted into an armadillo, balled up and spinning. Whatever freaky powers Blood had, apparently they couldn't do anything about momentum. The older man was struck in the face with enough force that he was flipping in midair until he landed on the floor with a smack.

Meanwhile, the armadillo had reverted back into a bird, though its flight was unsteady. It suddenly shrinking into something smaller, and it took Victor's robot eye to zoom in on it to see the form of a hummingbird.

Higher the hummingbird went up until it shifted again. Victor's human eye widened as—was that a freaking?!—whale plummeted through the air, and directly beneath it was none other than Blood. Recovering from his landing, Blood noticed what was heading to him and he scrambled out of the way, barely escaping the crushing mass of the marine-based mammal.

As dust and dirt clouded the area the whale had landed, blocking it from sight, Blood had put a few feet between himself and the green creature. "How dare you!" Blood spat out. "How dare you strike me, you little freak!"

As the cloud dissipated, the slight form of Garfield emerged, crouched with a hand holding his head. As if struggling, the little guy peered up with the best shit-eating grin he could muster. "I never...can...turn down a dare."

Shit. Garfield gone wild.

Blood's glowing red eyes flared and Garfield gave out a cry. "I never gave you permission to grow a pair, changeling. Weren't you suppose to be catatonic, lost with no hope whatsoever?"

"I don't...even know...what that word means," Garfield grunted out through whatever pain he was experiencing.

"Then I'll show you what it means," Blood snarled as he held out both of his hands, two large, pulsing, red orbs in each one.

Not on his watch. A quick adjustment to his arm, and he fired a sonic pulse at the religious asshole. The hit knocked Blood away from the Green Bean, the two red balls flashing out of existence. As soon as that happened, Garfield was shifting again, his body spinning as he changed.

Where once crouched a green-colored human kid, an enormous T-rex took his place, still spinning. The massive tail was like a whip, and Blood had barely recovered when he was smacked with it, flying like a baseball into the gathering of his zombie worshipers, and scattering any of them who happened to be in his way.

Jogging up to the shapeshifter's side, who by then had returned to his human form, Victor said the only thing on his mind at the moment. "Dawg, that was awesome!"

Pausing, the little guy looked up at him, eyes wide. "You think?" he asked, as if wondering if the praise was genuine.

"Would I lie?" Victor retorted, jerking a thumb at himself. "Now how about we continue this pain train? Got anything else up your sleeve?"

"Dude, the whole animal kingdom!" Garfield declared.

"Then show me everything you can do," Victor commanded as he held his hand out, elbow bent.

Giving a small smirk, Garfield reached out and clasped his smaller hand with the cyborg's larger, metal one.

* * *

Red Robin was starting to pant hard. He had no idea how long he had been at this, but combined with the butt-kicking Cassie had given him earlier, he was really starting to slow down. His body ached, his muscles were screaming at him for a break, but everywhere he looked…

"We shed our lives. We shed our flesh. We shed our blood for him."

Those guys were everywhere and they weren't letting up.

So even though he was fighting to keep his breath, his arms were beginning to protest being held in a defensive stance, and his legs were beginning to burn from strain, the teen vigilante forced himself to press on. There was no other choice but to keep fighting. There was no power or reset button sitting around anywhere.

"We shed our lives," one cultist chanted as he lunged at the masked teen. Red Robin waited, letting the mindless man approach, then struck when there was no way for the guy to dodge.

Tilting his upper body to a side, Reed Robin brought up a knee into the cultist's stomach, clasped his hands together, and jackhammered the back of the crazed man's skull. As the man collapsed, another cultist ran forward, chanting, "We shed our flesh."

Spinning on his heel, the vigilante slipped around the charge and sent a kick into the attack's back, propelling him forward and straight into the rest of his cultist buddies. Slipping a hand down to his belt, the masked teen was given a nasty reminder that he had exhausted his belt and had nothing else on him. The only weapons he had on him were his hands and feet, and even those were aching from all the punishment he was dishing out.

How much longer would he be able to keep fighting?

Someone slipped up behind him, and his internal alarms were screaming that he was under attack. However, a voice that was different from the mindless hum of repeated sentences spoke up. "Looking tired there, Red. Never thought you got tired this easily."

Okay, he was still under attack, but it was only verbal. The jab to his stamina aside, Cassie was watching his back now, making sure no one was going to try and rush him from behind. At least, that's what he hoped.

"Not everyone has a magic suit of armor to give them a boost," he retorted.

"A boost? Buddy, this is all natural," Cassie boasted, taking a second to deck a rushing cultist. "Always could knock someone out if I felt like it."

"Do you think you can knock them out harder?" he asked wryly, noticing from the corner of his eye how the man she had punched was getting back onto his feet.

"Any harder and I might knock someone's head off. Literally," she answered. "You willing to look the other way on that?"

Uh, yeah, no. The thought of that was enough to make him feel a little sick to the stomach, not that he needed to feel that in their current situation. Could really do without hearing that right now.

"Any other thoughts you'd like to share? Preferably ones that end this all sooner rather than later?" the vigilante asked maybe a little too loudly.

"Sure I have a plan. Keep knocking heads together until they all stay down," the armored blond replied.

Not the answer he wanted to hear.

Several cultists came at them, continuing their chants of shedding everything about themselves. Tensing his tired muscles, Red Robin readied himself for another round that would leave him more tired than he was now, and he was already reaching his limit. Fortunately, a bolt of green energy struck the floor in front of the charging cultists, detonating and slowing them down. Zooming through the air, Kori shattered their loose formation, scattering them.

"Are you in trouble, my friends? You have stopped fighting," the Tamaranian called out to the two of them. As soon as she finished speaking, the orange-colored alien performed a roundhouse kick that sent its unfortunate victim flying away.

"Just trying to figure out a way to keep these guys from getting back up," Cassie called to the alien. "Any ideas?"

"Is death permissible or no?" Kori asked in answer.

Red Robin would take that as a no.

"We need to come up with a plan. Like right now," he stated. Then he added, "One that doesn't involve killing people. We don't know anything about these people or if we can save them or not."

"That sounds fine and dandy but that doesn't change the fact they're all trying to kill us," Cassie retorted. "Better think of something quick before this gets worse."

He was trying, damn it. It wasn't as easy as people make it out to be. Didn't change the fact that the armored blonde was right, though. That was probably more annoying than being stuck in this situation in the first place. Looking around, hoping for some kind of inspiration or something that could single-handedly give them the win they were looking for—

—oh no. Cassie, why did you have to tempt fate?

A powerful arm swatted aside any cult members that happened to be in the way. With burn marks covering his torso, Trogaar came into sight, and he did not look happy.

"Great, it just got worse," he said blandly.

Cassie swore, saying something that should never be repeated.

Kori didn't say anything; she flew right into action instead, attacking the Gordanian who looked like he had gained a second wind. He blocked whatever blows the Tamaranian threw at him, then counterattacked with his own. Kori ducked under the swinging arm and went back onto the offensive without missing her stride.

"How else can this get worse?" Cassie complained as she raised her leg up and landed a kick in a charging cultist's chest, knocking him away.

Since she had tempted fate before, Tim quickly scanned around, taking a second to block another attacking cultist and retaliating with a brutal punch to the throat and a second blow to the head, before spotting fate's second retort.

This time it was that robed woman, Mayhem, and she had retrieved her gun. She was taking aim at the pair of them, and damn it, Red Robin would have to be out of anything he could throw to disarm her. So he did the next best thing he could.

"Your eight o'clock! Watch out!" he bellowed as Mayhem pulled the trigger of her weapon.

The shattering sound of a gunshot blared over the noises of combat. Somewhere in the air, there was a small projectile moving at the speed of sound. What its target was was unknown, but they would all find out in less than a second.

By then, Cassie had swung out a gauntleted arm to her eight o'clock, Red Robin's warning giving her enough time to use it as a shield. Lo and behold, the blonde had been Mayhem's target.

The masked teen heard the ringing of the bullet striking the gauntlet, Cassie's arm trembled slightly, and then Mayhem cried out as the bullet ricocheted and hit her, causing the robed woman to fall back.

It was tense for a second before Cassie broke it. "Okay, I did not mean for that to happen."

Seeing that Mayhem was curling up on the floor, she was still alive. "It was an accident," the vigilante said quickly. "We'll worry about her later. We got a fight—" he spun around a lunging cultist, landed his elbow into the attacker's back, and sent him stumbling into the armored blonde's swinging fist, "—to finish first. We need to take out Trogaar over there. Any thoughts?"

"Yeah, hit him hard enough that he'll stay down this time," Cassie snarled as she began barreling through the mass of chanting cultists, knocking them out of her way as she went to join the fray with Kori.

Choosing the better part of valor, Red Robin dashed after her, his body still protesting even as the cultists gave chase after him.

* * *

Picking himself up, Blood groaned as he still felt the blows from that green freak affecting him.

It made no sense. How was Garfield able to attack him? The brat was his thrall! He had already established his control over him long ago! So how? Oh, and let's not forget, he had restricted that shapeshifting powers of his before shedding all that lovely blood.

So what was going on?

Because of proximity, he could detect the green changeling was close by and he zeroed in on it. It didn't take long to realize that he had dropped the block on the shapeshifting, choosing to use his energies to form his precious portal. There had been no expectation that Garfield would join forces with the other brats who had intruded in his home.

This would have to be a mistake he corrected.

Barreling into view, a rhino trampled over his mindless drones, the cyborg riding atop the ungulate and firing off shots from that arm of his. Spotting him, the cyborg began redirecting the green shapeshifter in the Blood's general direction.

That wasn't good.

Picking himself up, Blood stumbled back, the full force of his injuries beginning to weigh on him. That assault had taken a lot more out of him than he had thought. There wasn't a lot of time, he needed to turn the tables, now.

Quickly looking around, he spotted the portal to the Red, its glow so welcoming. But he wouldn't be able to reach it or access the power that lay on the other side. Especially not with a rhinoceros-riding robot coming his way. And yes, he knew how ridiculous that sounded. Also, there was that other intruder, the gray-skinned girl who was staring at the portal. Whatever reason for it there was, Blood didn't know or care. It amounted to one more obstacle that was determined to stand in his way.

Then his eyes landed on the three Sisters who had taken post around the portal, keeping an eye on that strange girl.

"Sisters!" he roared. "Grant me your strength! Your Brother Blood requires your power in this time of need!"

The three masked women turned their heads towards him. "We live only to serve," the three intoned as red auras encased them. Like a mist, the auras reached out to Blood and he welcomed them, power beginning to fill his being.

The aches and pains of his body were forgotten. His might was restored. And now, vengeance would be served.

Releasing a cry of fury, Blood unleashed a shockwave of power that crashed into anything and everything. The rebellious changeling and his robotic rider were swatted aside easily. His followers, his drones fared no better. The other intruders, even his recent alien acquisition were overpowered.

Now this, this was more like it! His lips parted to reveal a toothy smile while his hands powered up two large orbs of magical whoopass. He threw one at the changeling and cyborg, the two allies giving cries of terror and scrambling out of the way. The orb exploded on contact with the floor, but the force emitted scattered the pair.

The other orb was for the other three, all of whom were trying to battle his alien conquest. The mighty roar of the resulting explosion complemented the blood red detonation, the orange-skinned girl blasted away as she was closest to the blast radius.

One of the remaining two who had endured called out a word, a name perhaps, but Blood didn't give a shit what it was. He formed two more pulsing orbs and fired them off one by one, determined to kill these pests once and for all.

The cavern floor rocked and shuddered with each explosive discharge. By now his followers had retreated, survival instinct overcoming blind and forced devotion. They ended up barring any exits, though, so they still served him; this time it was to prevent any escape from his wrath.

One explosion managed to stun his shapeshifting turncoat of a Ravager, leaving him helpless for a follow-up attack. The cyborg quickly came to the rescue, using his body as a shield to protect the green slave, and as a result overestimated just what Blood's power could do. The older man couldn't help but let out a cackle as the mostly metal and machine pest was thrown across the room, dragging the shapeshifter under his body. Peeled skin and a trail of blood were left in their wake, a beautiful sight as unintentional as it was.

The blonde with the armor tried to charge at him, leaving his alien thrall to be dealt with by her costumed teammate. Grinning, Blood altered his next attack into a fiery red blast of power that sliced through the air beautifully. Instead of doing the sensible thing, like dodging, the blonde crossed her arms in front of her, trying to shield herself.

That ended as well as one would expect. Not anticipating the kind of oomph the attack possessed, the resulting explosion pushed the armor-wearing girl back, her feet digging trenches into the floor, and breaking open her guard.

With a triumphant yell, Blood fired a second blast, eagerly waiting the direct hit that awaited it. The costumed boy—who he had enslaved earlier, why was he acting on his own?—darted in between the girl and the blast, whipping his cape up to act a shield. Much to the cult leader's surprise, even though his blast had a direct hit on that cape, it barely left a scratch on it and the boy was still standing.

Narrowing his eyes, he formed a pulsing red orb in one hand while readying a blast with the other. As the Sisters kept supplying him with more and more magical energy, he need not hold back. So he didn't.

With a heave, he threw the orb, aiming towards the costumed teen's legs. Predictably, the boy tilted his cape—for some reason—to better take the brunt of the explosive force slamming into him. With him justly distracted, Blood fired his prepared blast. The attack made quick work of the distance between the two of them, yet it seemed his aim was off.

A mere tilt of his head, and the masked boy had managed to avoid the blast, but the attack was close enough that it seared a portion of the boy's face and that ridiculous mask he wore over his eyes. The cry of shock and pain was music to the older man's ears.

There was a flash of green, and instinctively Blood raised a glowing red hand up to catch the bolt of green energy. Clamping his fingers down on it, he extinguished the pathetic attempt at a counterattack. The orange-skinned girl who had been the one who had thrown that bolt was staring at him in surprise, caught off guard enough that she could only stare, unable to comprehend that her precious little attack had been smothered so easily.

Giving a smirk, Blood paid the attempt back in kind, the orange girl scrambling to escape but not making it out of the detonation's range. She landed at the feet of his alien thrall who stomped his foot on her back, pinning her to the floor. Finally, the help was doing something for once.

Ah, this was addictive. Right now, he felt like he could do anything, more specifically tear these pests apart limb by limb. In fact, why not do that right now? Why not make examples of them here and now, and show why no one opposed the one who bore the title of Brother Blood?

"Brother! The portal!" Mayhem, called out to him, one of her hands pressed against her side. A curious sight, but it did remind him of the task at hand. Good girl, Mayhem.

Yes, the portal was more important than asserting his dominance. The Red waited for no one, which was why he had worked so hard to open this gate in the first place. Enough time had already been wasted fighting these insects; no more playing around.

"You," he snapped at his alien thrall, "make sure none of them interfere. I'm tired of this game."

Spinning on his heel, his cape making a nice whooshing sound, Blood made his approach to the still open portal, but came to a stop as he almost ran into the one other pest who had for the most part stayed out of the battle. To be honest, he had forgotten that there had been one other intruder in his sanctum.

What was she doing? From what he could see, she was just standing there, her lips moving as if she were speaking—whispering?—to someone. That didn't make any sense. What did was that she was in his way.

"Move aside," Blood said darkly as he raised an arm up to bat her way.

The floor under his feet buckled then lifted up, throwing him back and away from the girl. Luckily, he was able to regain his balance before making a fool of himself and falling on his ass.

There was a slight tremor beneath his feet, which was then followed by a pillar of rock shooting up into the air, and the older man standing on top of it. Unfortunately, this time, he couldn't keep his balance and fell back to the cavern floor below. A good thing, in hindsight, as that pillar continued up until it smashed into the ceiling high above.

Immediately recognizing the handiwork, Blood searched for and spotted the one responsible. "Terra!" he snarled. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Standing before a grouping of his mindless followers, of whom were buried up to their waists in mounds of dirt and stone, was the blonde girl in question, her body covered in a yellow glow that shimmered around her. There was an energy about her, a feeling that she was on the brink of doing something that was going to piss the cult leader off more than he already was.

However, it was the fact she did not say anything or respond, which sent _him_ over the brink.

"I have had enough of this!" Blood roared as his augmented power flared about him. The Sisters behind him wavered, struggling to keep up with the demand he placed on them. Eyes flashing red, Blood asserted his will on the girl striking at any and all vulnerabilities she had. No more tolerating insubordination. It was bad enough he had Warblade keeping vital information from him, and then the green shapeshifter harming him, but Terra denying him his destiny was too far.

Terra cried out, and while Blood was granted with instant gratification, it was short lived. Because the very second the girl fell to her knees, the floor was cracked open and a very solid, very pointed rock tore out of the opening with speed that belied its weight. Breaking off his psychic assault, Blood leapt out of the way as the rock crashed into the spot he had once stood. Smaller rocks pelted him, loosened from the crash site.

Noticing that the cavern room was shaking, he yelled at the girl to stop before a shadow was cast over him. Snapping his head upwards, Blood's eyes bulged as chunk of the ceiling was plummeting through the air and heading directly for where he stood now. Evasive maneuvers were needed ASAP.

"What do you think you're doing?! You'll crush us all!" he shouted at Terra. When it was apparent she wasn't about to stop, he threw a look at his pet alien. "Stop her before she kills us all!"

Pressing his weight on the back of the orange girl, Trogaar hurried over to where Terra continued to kneel, a fist raised with the obvious intent of knocking her out. As if sensing his approach, Terra's head whipped around and she threw out an arm. In response, a veritable wall of rock broke through the floor and rammed into the alien, throwing him back several feet to land on his back.

The brute of an alien had no time to return to the task at hand. In the next second, a stalactite impaled him in the middle of his torso, the pointed rock having descended from the high-up ceiling where it had been dislodged. As the extraterrestrial gurgled up blood, Blood felt himself experience pain as death backlashed through his connection to the dying being.

The suddenness and unexpected nature of the connection's dissolution caused a scream to rip from Blood's throat as he grasped at his head. The Sisters behind also screamed, the efforts to channel their powers into him cutting off as they too were affected by the backlash.

Stumbling back, Blood tripped over himself, reeling from the affect effects still afflicting him. The agony threatened to destroy his mind.

Usually when terminating a slave or servant, he would prepare himself for the cutting off of the connection that existed between himself and the person to be slaughtered. Magical and psychic backlashes were always a risk when it came to such events which could be countered with prior knowledge and preparation. But when there was no preparation or prior knowledge, it was such a bitch, almost psychologically crippling.

That was the power of death for you.

Holding his head, Blood finally came to rest on the floor, the portal nearby and waiting for him, still waiting for him to claim it. He could see it from the corner of his eye and he knew that no more time could wasted. He needed to hurry and claim it, claim it now!

But as was his luck today, there was one last—and neglected—obstacle in his way.

* * *

Rachel tuned back into the world and found that it was a much different place than when she had, ahem, "left it." For one, there was a lot less fighting. Two, the people she was aligned to were all in various states of injury, from Kori laying on her stomach, to Cassie supporting Red Robin, and Victor shielding the body of Garfield. And third, it felt as if there was an earthquake disrupting this earth-based chamber. Ah, there was Terra right over there, her powers over the earth completely overactive. That would explain that last part.

And lastly, there was Brother Blood at her feet. He had the look of someone experiencing a psychic backlash, never a pretty thing.

From her point of view, she saw not a master of the arcane, a leader of a group of delusional zealots, or ruthless megalomaniac. She saw an amateur in over his head.

The main reason for that was the portal that had captivated her the second she set her eyes on it. According to Terra, this portal should lead to the Red, whatever that was. Except, it didn't. How did she know that? Because after staring into it for so long, she caught of glimpse of what was hiding within it, and she knew where it led.

And this fool thought otherwise.

"Out of my way," Brother Blood spat at her. "You will not deny me my destiny."

Rachel narrowed her eyes as she tapped into her magic. "Deny you? On the contrary."

Extending a hand, she allowed her dark powers to weave around the cult leader and pick him up, keeping him suspended in the air. He made a token effort of struggle, but there would be no escape for him. He was helpless, at her mercy, and she would extend to him the same mercy he had displayed to her...friends.

"Allow me to give you the one thing you want," she told him, ignoring his flabbergasted look. "Just know that that portal is one way only. Give my regards to the ruler of that realm."

Then she blasted Blood straight into the portal, the man crying out at the suddenness of his flight. He vanished from sight, devoured by the portal that was now enveloped in inky black. With the easy part accomplished, Rachel set about asserting her will over this gate, filling the construct with her magical energies and then picking it apart until it could hold its shape no more.

Visibly, the portal began to shrink, reducing in size until all that was left was a ball of black-colored magic that with a thought, she dispelled. Nothing but air remained where the object of Blood's triumph once rested.

As if to add one last insult, a large boulder loosened from the ceiling crashed down into the pool of blood that had provided much of the portal's foundation. Also, it was evidence that the danger had yet to pass.

This whole place was trembling, and any time something as unmovable as earth and rock trembled, it meant it was about to move. The trembling needed to stop now or they needed to get out of here.

Using her magic to levitate herself, Rachel glided over to the source of the danger, the blonde-haired girl known as Terra. The geokinetic was still crouched on the floor, her body covered in a yellow glow. You didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know that so long as Terra was glowing, her powers were active.

"Terra, you can stop now," Rachel declared as she came to a stop in front of the blonde. "Blood's gone. It's over. Stop before you kill everyone here."

Terra's shoulders trembled, which surprisingly accompanied a tremor in the room. "I...can't," Terra forced out. "The noise...it's too loud. I have to...I need to stop it."

Rachel frowned. Noise? What noise? "What are you talking about?"

Terra shook her head. "You leave. Do it now. I'll be fine, so go. I...I need to do this. This place...it's hurt so many, me, Gar. It'll do."

That was very alarming to hear, and the implications…

"How do you expect us to get out? You need to get control over yourself!" the dark-haired girl urged.

"I used to have control, until you came around," Terra replied, looking up at her through her bangs. "It's too late. Get yourself out of here. Get them out of here. Get Gar out of here. Please. Take care of him too, will you? He needs someone to watch his back. But I'll be back. Don't you worry about that."

There was a finality to her tone of words. A resignation. Or maybe she really believed that she would be fine. Whatever the case, it was quickly apparent that there was no talking her out of this.

"I hope you're the type of person that keeps their word," Rachel stated as she turned away, quickly looking around for her companions.

The trembling of the cavernous room was becoming worse. You could actually see it rocking up and down, side to side. The walls were beginning to crack, and above the ceiling was losing its strength as pieces of it were beginning to dislodge.

There, there, and there, Rachel identified the locations of her comrades. "Victor! To me!" she called out to her cybernetic friend, using her powers to amplify her voice to the half-robotic teen. Looking at her, Victor nodded and picked up the wounded Garfield, the green changeling's back bleeding from a large swath of skin that had been torn off.

Two down. "Kori! If you can move, get to Cassie and Red Robin," she ordered the Tamaranian. Pushed up on her arms, Kori nodded and levitated herself, moving over to where their costumed and armored allies were.

That left herself to close the distance and bring all six of them together. There was a way out of here that did not require them to trek through the maze of hallways outside of this room.

Reaching the side of Cassie who was propping up Red Robin, a portion of his face burned, Rachel did a head count, counting Victor and Garfield last as the pair reached her side. "Get close together," she commanded. "Make yourselves as small as possible. This is going to be...interesting."

Understanding the severity of her words, the other five bunched themselves together as close as they could. Given the limitations the variety of their bodies allowed, be their sizes, composition, and states of injury, it wasn't easy to do, but they complied as best as they could.

As pieces of the ceiling increased in their frequency of breaking loose and falling down on their heads, Rachel uttered a chant that swallowed the group in a black bubble of magic and removed them from this terrible place.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos!"

* * *

Terra watched as the newly formed group of six were blocked from view by that black magic that had caused the blonde so many problems and sink into the floor. It was good timing on that girl's part as a chunk of the ceiling landed where they had gathered.

She was serious, though. What she said earlier. The hum that never seemed to go away had only intensified as she waited out in the hallways outside this chamber. Since the only way to weaken it was to use her powers, that's what she was going to do. And she was not going to be doing half measures. She was not going to stop until either that hum went away or this whole place collapsed on itself, whichever came first.

Blood's worshipers had scattered after their master had been thrown into that portal. The connection that tied her to him had been cut immediately afterwards, barely a second passing. Freedom, she finally had it.

Nearby, Mother Mayhem stood, covering a wound that did not stop bleeding and staring at the place where she had last seen Blood. "He's done it," the Mother said, her voice full of reverence. "He's done it. He's finally found his way. The Red is his. Power unimaginable. He is a God now. A God."

Terra ignored her. Instead, she choose to focus on her powers, how it tuned itself to the makeup of the planet itself. How it infused itself with her surroundings. She was keyed in in more ways than one.

With a scream, she unleashed it all, drowning that hum out as she tore this place down. Anybody still in it was crushed, from Mother Mayhem, the three seer-like Sisters, even the body of that alien. As the ceiling fully collapsed, it was followed after by the church that sat above it. That structure would descend into the earth too, it all would.

Buried and forgotten, exactly as it deserved.


	26. Still Swingin'

Author's Note: Final chapter for the first Teen Titans story in this strange little DC universe ShadowMajin and myself have created. No, these guys will return, don't fret about that. I got some ideas for a second story that I'm working out the kinks for, but that won't be for a while. Right now, my coauthor and I have plans for the immediate future which I will get into in the author's note at the bottom. In the meantime, enjoy.

Still Swingin'

 **We're just living for today**

 **Keep our light on in the haze**

 **Yeah, forever we will stay**

 **We are the ones still swingin'**

 **We are a beacon in the dark**

 **A lighthouse risen from the heart**

 **We've been here from the start**

 **We are the ones still swingin'**

 **-Still Swingin' by Papa Roach**

A hacking cough cleared up the airways, as well as removed the bits of dirt out of his mouth. Coughing turned to spitting, and from there, Blood raised his head up from the unfamiliar ground on which his body lay.

Where was he? He didn't recognize this place. How did he get here? Wait, he remembered. That girl, that _bitch_ had…

Oh, how stupid was she? He had _wanted_ to enter that portal. The other side was the one thing that would grant him limitless power to control all life. And she had saved him the trouble of stepping through it. This was, this, it may not have been the way he had intended it, but the ends matched with his design.

Looking around, Blood observed the red-painted landscape, the dark clouds overhead that were tinged with red, the glow from the horizon that was, naturally red. This had to be it. This had to be the Red. Not what he had imagined, but it would do. Now, to master this place, to harness it, and realize his destiny.

As he continued to take in his surroundings, there were some details that looked...off. For example, there were fires littered about, randomly. They were crackling, emitting heat, and was it him, or was this place unnaturally hot? The surface on which he lay, though flattened, was smooth, like stomped on regularly by numerous feet. A dirt path, if you would, which would explain why he was coughing and spitting earlier.

As Blood stood onto his feet, something struck him in the back and kicked his legs out from under him. With a cry, the man barely caught himself with his hands, his knees propping up his lower body. Then, whatever had hit him struck again and forced him down into the dirt once more.

Laughter reached his ears, loud cackling that annoyed him already. Propping himself up on his elbows, Blood looked over his shoulder to glare at his assaulter(s), and then show them the errors of their ways. What he found were a trio of red-skinned (of course), demonesque beings dressed in loose clothing that did little to hide their muscular physiques. Bizarrely, all had flames burning where one would expect hair to be.

Oh, and let's not forget that each one had four eyes, all narrow so as to not take up too much space.

"My brothers, we have new meat," the demon who dug his foot into Blood's back declared to the other two.

"Careful not to break this one too soon, Belial. Otherwise, our entertainment will be short lived," the demon in red cloth remarked, grinning maliciously.

"Shut your trap, Suge," Belial retorted. "It's not my fault that these insects are so weak."

"Do you two not sense it?" the third unnamed demon asked.

"Sense what, Raskoff?" Suge inquired before pausing abruptly. "I sense it now."

Sense what?

"What is it? What have you...oh." Now even this brute standing over, and on top of, him was catching on to...whatever it was that it was.

"I guess we won't be breaking this one any time soon," Suge jested, crossing his arms over a defined chest. "Father will want this one."

"You have the right of it."

The voice was dark, ominous, and did not bode well for Blood. It belonged to, as Blood soon found out, a large figure peering down at the man and trio of demons from atop a cliff. Like the creatures menacing him, this newcomer also bore red skin, but unlike them, he possessed a mane of white hair. Protruding from his head were two horns that reminded the cult leader of deer antlers, though they were pure white, ivory was another way to describe them.

Four eyes bore down at him, none showed any sign of being impressed.

"You have been a useful pawn," the large demonic being stated. "Thanks to you, you have allowed me to find my missing property. For that, your suffering will be lessened."

Who the hell did this bastard think he was? "You dare to talk down to me?" Blood snarled, attempting to push himself back onto his feet. "Do you know who I am?!"

The trio of demons around him chuckled, all three taking steps away from him.

"I care not for who you are, only how you can serve me. As of now, you cannot serve, and like the rest, you shall endure whatever torments I choose to subject you to," the four-eyed demon stated. "You are now in the realm of Trigon and you will not be leaving."

All four of those cruel eyes widened and only in that moment did Blood realize the severity of the situation.

All he could do now was scream.

* * *

Tim touched his face, specifically the side that had been scorched by Blood's attack. The skin was healed, healthy, and showed no signs of injury, and it was all thanks to Rachel. Who knew she knew some magic to heal wounds of all things. It really came in handy, didn't it. No need to worry about what the folks would say.

Too bad she didn't know any kind of magic to reverse time or repair clothing. That would come really handy right now.

In his other hand, he held the remains of his mask. Half of it was gone, destroyed by that near hit that almost took off his head. For most of the people who were indoors right now, it didn't really matter if they saw his face because a, they wouldn't know who he was, and b, they had no motives to do anything with such knowledge.

The key word was most. There was one person who stood the best chance of recognizing him because she had seen him before and had the motive to hold it over his head. Why was it his luck that the people he needed least to know his secret identity were the ones who always found out?

As he perched on the roof of Cassie's house, the very same person whom he didn't want knowing his alter ego, Tim knew that it was time to face the music. She had gotten a real good look at him back in Blood's underground compound and after Rachel had been generous enough to take away the pain he had felt in his face. There was no way she didn't know who he was.

"I know I should be surprise, but for some reason I'm not. The new kid at school happens to be the same prick who wants to turn me into the cops. Should've done more with your hair, not that it helps."

There it was. Cassie had found him at last. Time to get this over with.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked, getting straight to the point. Based on their past dealings, he knew she wanted to draw this out. Make him squirm.

"Don't know yet, but I do know one thing." Her armor put away, it was simply Cassie Sandsmark in some casual sleepwear, meaning a loose shirt that was a couple sizes too big for her and sweatpants. "If you want to take me down, I'll take you down with me."

Tim figured as much.

"You still haven't answered my question," Tim pressed.

"Don't like it as much when the shoe's on the other foot, hm?" the blonde teased. "Remind me, how long did you keep me in suspense, wondering when the cops would come barging down my door?"

"You know how long," he retorted. "You only found out I knew when I showed the others—" As if realizing at the last second that was not the best argument, Tim shut himself up. Probably was too late at this point.

"Yes, the one time you couldn't sic them on me," Cassie nearly drawled. "I'm still not happy with you about using my house. There is one thing I have to ask about. Since I bet you figured out my identity before you brought in my unwanted guests, why didn't you tell the cops earlier?"

Tim let out a sigh. "It's not as easy as calling them up and telling them a teenage girl is responsible for a rash of burglaries. You need proof, you need evidence, and I had neither. Plus, I don't know how the Jump City Police work like I did with Gotham. There you made sure the evidence was right next to the perp. Sped things up."

Cassie hmmed. "So why do you do it?"

"Do what?" From the corner of his eye, the teen vigilante glanced at the girl beside him. She had her arms draped around her bent legs, relaxed even though she was asking questions that were much deeper than she was known for asking.

"I have to spell it out? Why do you dress up like Halloween and try to fight burglars? Did one kill your family or something?" Cassie elaborated, though you could also hear her roll her eyes.

"Terrorized, but they're fine," Tim corrected. "Back in Gotham, I wanted to do something about it. Found a couple others who felt the same, and went from there. When I moved here, it was for the reason of getting out of it. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but retirement seemed like the best thing to do. Then I got a good look at Jump and knew I couldn't stay out of the game forever."

Why he was spilling his guts like this to Cassie Sandsmark of all people, he did not know. Maybe he was trying to convince her not to rat him out too. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Drake. You were pretty much threatening her yourself. There was no reason for her to go easy on you.

Surprisingly, Cassie gave a chuckle. "You really are a goody two-shoes. Kinda got that impression of you at school. Glad to know that I was right about that much. Personally, I think you shouldn't wear that mask of yours. Takes away from the fact you're a cute guy too. What a waste."

"It wouldn't have worked out," Tim pointed out. "Besides, the mask is part of the costume. Can't go anywhere without it."

"How do you know it wouldn't have worked out? We haven't even gone on a date yet."

Tim paused, not only in speech but also in thought. Was that teasing he heard? Cassie, the one woman army, who for the most part hated his guts, and she was talking with him like they were buddy-buddy now.

"Where are you going with this?" he asked, suspicious.

"Well, I did ask you out," Cassie told him, "and there were all those other kids in the hallway, any of whom could have overheard us. We might as well give them something and call it a day."

There was that. He remembered. Still, this was adding up to something. "Let me get this straight, in exchange for keeping silent about my...nightly activities, you want to go on a date with me?"

"You think you're a smart guy, but you're not. For not telling the cops about _my_ nightly activities, I'll keep silent about yours. What I want is an excuse to get out of my house and away from the people below us. That's what you're giving me," Cassie explained, some of her abrasiveness leaking through. "So how about it, Gotham cowboy? Want to do something different for a change?"

There was plenty she was leaving out, but Tim had figured quite a bit about her. She wasn't the type to lay it all on the line. She liked keeping her own secrets to herself, and distraction was the one thing she craved most. And after spending so much time doing exciting things like fight off an alien invader and a creepy cult leader, something normal was more preferable.

Besides, that would mean one night she wasn't out burglarizing someone else.

Also, this wasn't Gotham. This was a new city, a new start. A new life.

"Where do you want me to pick you up?" he asked, turning his head just enough to give her a wry smile.

* * *

For the most part, Rachel had managed to put on a show, showed no sign of the turmoil that was welling up inside her. The moment she was able to duck into the guestroom at Cassie's house, the dark-haired girl tucked herself into a corner and curled up.

Then and only then did she give in to the urge to be overwhelmed with fear. For a few seconds she was before she asserted her will over her own emotions, even though many of the objects in in the room had been imbued with her magic and were on the brink of being crushed or flat out destroyed. The glass on a picture hanging on the wall had begun to crack, the metal-framed bed was hovering in the air, its frame groaning from the pressure exerted on it, and the lightbulb on a lamp was already beyond saving, the lamp itself about to follow suit.

It was a miracle the whole room hadn't been decimated yet.

Meditation, the continuous chanting of the phrase Azarath Metrion Zinthos, those were the only things keeping her calm and grounded enough to not have an emotional breakdown.

It all stemmed from that portal, Blood's entrance into the so-called Red. When she had first laid eyes on it, she had thought to unravel it and thus deny that madman his victory. The others would prove the distraction that he would not be able to stop her and she believed that the three sorceresses maintaining it would not be an obstacle.

As she reached out with her magical senses, she immediately noticed something odd about it. That oddness was familiarity, and as if possessing an awareness itself, something within it detected her.

As she had focused on it, _two pairs of eyes appeared within the portal and froze her. Locking with hers and sealing eye contact, it was everything Rachel could do not to collapse into a ball of despair._

 _Then that dreaded voice spoke. "There you are, my daughter. I've found you at last."_

 _She had wanted to sob, to scream, to fly into a rage, because all her efforts to remain hidden, keeping out of his sight, and avoiding his agents had in a single moment been undone. In this most unlikely of places, this creature had found her._

 _This was not an entry into some vague place called the Red but a gateway that lead to the realm of...Trigon. There was more to this than any of them believed. Somehow, someway, someone had messed up or they were being played. And knowing the four-eyed beast staring her down, Rachel came to the conclusion that it was the latter._

" _Did you think you could evade me forever?" the creature asked mildly. "That you could defy fate? None escape from me, especially those of my flesh."_

 _She had hoped that wasn't case. Here and now, it was clear that running from her destiny, and hiding from her one singular role in this life was not an option. As much as she wanted to…_

" _Come, you know what needs to be done," the voice stated, though it sounded more like it was soothing, enticing. "You know what you need to do. Do it. Realize this gate's true purpose. It is not enough to see through it, it must be fully open and from your side. Open it, allow me through, allow me to hold you again, my precious, runaway daughter."_

 _By Azar, no. No! This wasn't, couldn't be happening._

" _Do not resist, you know what your purpose is. Open the door, Raven."_

" _No!" she had yelled out. Not physically but with that inner voice of hers, embodied by a thought. "I won't! You cannot make me!"_

" _It is not a matter of choice. You know this, I know this. Fate is something you cannot fight. Your resistance is amusing, but only to a point. Cease this act of rebelliousness, my daughter, my flesh. Embrace what you are meant to do. Open the door."_

" _Never. I will never let you into this world!" Rachel yelled back, losing her composure._

" _But you will. You will. Whether it is now or later, you will. What do you hope to accomplish? You are but my harbinger, the one that heralds my entry into all worlds. Accept this Raven, accept who you are, and do what you are destined to do. Open—"_

" _You can say that as many times as you like, I will not let you take one step on this planet," Rachel interrupted, anger beginning to take hold over her._

" _If not you, my pawn will do so in your stead, and you will have to answer to me," the decadent voice seethed._

 _His pawn? Blood. He had to be talking about Blood. So instead of a mastermind, he was but a puppet, an unwitting one, but one nonetheless. Whatever spells that were studied and prepared could have been influenced from beyond this realm and from another. Something that was simple to do for one like Trigon._

 _He could not be allowed to enter through that gate. The second someone on this side willingly touched it, it would in effect allow it to become two-way, anything could enter or exit through it. It needed to be closed now, before it could be utilized for its true purpose._

" _No, I won't answer to you," she declared. "Never again. Never will I ever let you use me again. This world will_ never _know you exist."_

" _We both know that is not for you to decide. In your wake, there is only death and destruction. Embrace your purpose. Become it. Cease your childish rebellion and open this gate. Your defiance is becoming old."_

" _On the contrary, I think it suits me quite well. I wouldn't be the first daughter to disappoint her father, and I won't be the last."_

 _Her eyes had been searching for any weakness in the portal's construction, something that would dismantle it in a heartbeat. To one like the demon peering at her, she would appear afraid, scared even. But she had found what she had been looking for when the power supplying the interdimensional construct inexplicably weakened, like it was diverted elsewhere._

 _The sounds of the battle behind her reached her ears, and the earth around her began to shake. Then someone fell at her feet and_ she returned to the world around her, blinking her eyes to clear them of the visions from the past.

She may have shown bravado earlier, but that was only temporary. Mouthing off to the ruler of another dimension was never advisable, even if you were an asset of invaluable worth. Even now, Rachel could not believe that she had been able to say what she had said and then, adding insult to verbal injury, shut the proverbial door in her father's face.

That was going to go over real well.

Sigh.

No one downstairs could ever learn of this. For their own safety, they could never find out about the fact that her father was an interdimensional demon with designs on their world More importantly, that she was the daughter of that demon, that her powers were borne from such a monster.

Already, she had had enough of being accused of being a witch. Yes, it had happened before and no, she was not looking forward for the next time.

Funny, though, that of the people she had been associating with as of late, none had ever questioned or discriminated against her. Victor had asked questions before, yes, but that had been more about who she was. Now that she thought about it, he had never said anything negative about her powers.

 _Four eyes bore into her, seeking her very soul to draw out and smother…_

A shiver ran through her body.

Ignorance would be their security blanket then. In the meantime, she would take her leave, get as far away as she possibly could, and hope that that would be that. She had hidden herself from the gaze of her father before, she could do it again.

And she would do it in isolation once more.

* * *

Red Robin had taken off, which meant Cassie was left to look after her still unwanted house guests. She was going to have to figure out a way to get them out of there before her mother came home, whenever that would be.

Three of them had cooped up in the living room, sort of. Seeing how Kori was handling an empty mustard bottle sadly, hoping for one little taste and always disappointed when the bottle provided none, it was kinda funny to watch.

But the main attraction had to be the green guy, Garfield. That she somehow still remembered his name was a feat in and of itself. Even though she barely knew him, even she was a little unnerved with how silent he was. Sitting on the couch, back slumped, and elbows pressed down on his knees, it was a less funny, more serious version of melancholy. It didn't seem right, what with the fact he always had to make some kind of noise. At least he wasn't tied up to a chair, right? Should be grateful.

That left the cyborg, Victor asking the most obvious question, as well as most conveniently timed as she was walking down the stairs when he asked it, in the book. "So what are your guys' plans? You know, now that we've beaten a bunch of aliens and cultists and all."

Yes, future plans. Cassie knew what hers was and that was cutting down on the number of people under her roof.

Seemingly giving up on the mustard bottle, it was Kori who answered first. "I would acquire myself a transport that would allow me to return to my home planet. I cannot allow my sister to continue the tyrannical rule that she is forcing on my people. Unfortunately, I know not where your species keeps its intergalactic transport vessels, and the only one I know of that has those capabilities is at the bottom of your ocean. For the time being, I will remain an exile."

Now she was feeling guilty. Here was a girl who had nothing, no family, no money, no nothing, and worst of all stuck in a place she could not and did not know how to leave. Well, the blonde supposed she could allow the Tamaranian to stay for a little bit. Until she was able to stand on her own two feet. Sure, the orange skin gave away that she was not from around here, but last Cassie heard, no one really cared about orange skin. People with orange skin became presidents.

"Yeah, that coup stuff." Victor didn't seem comfortable mentioning that stuff. Someone wanting to stop an extreme number of coup d'états was a tyrant. Sure, coups were normal here, but as Kori explained, they practically had one once a day if not more.

"Such a coup will require planning and strategies, the kind that my race as of this current moment may not be capable of," Kori remarked, looking at all the faces directed towards her.

"Uh huh," Victor nodded before turning to Garfield, an obvious attempt to change the topic. "What about you, Grass Stain? Any plans?"

Garfield blew air through his lips, letting them flop for a couple seconds. "I really don't know. I'm...I'm really trying to figure out everything that just happened."

Maybe you could do that somewhere else?

"I mean, I always thought that Brother Blood was looking out for me, then I find out he wasn't and that he bought me. You know, like a slave. He owned me. And...and what do I do with that? Where do I go from that!" the green kid exclaimed, growing louder and louder in volume as he spoke.

Cassie winced internally. Now she felt like an asshole.

"I too understand the feeling of helplessness after you learn you have been placed in bondage," Kori spoke up. "The only thing I know that is worse than that sensation is the knowing that it was it was someone who you knew and trusted and loved in a familial manner that placed you into it."

"But I don't even know who sold me!" Garfield cried out as he placed his hands on his head, fingers digging into his scalp. "I don't remember anything from before! I...I don't even remember my parents' faces, if I had any! But who would want to have a kid who's green? I can see why they'd want to get rid of me. They'd never be normal!"

Wow, this was getting dark. Too bad that she couldn't think of any way to turn this around. Usually, the blonde's way of handling problems were through threats and violence. How the hell do you punch an existential crisis?

"I could find out," Victor volunteered.

It took a second, but Cassie was the one who questioned further. "Find out what?"

"It was back when Red Robin was making me dig up dirt on Blood. I went through the dark web, a lot crap that I don't want to talk about was there, but I did find some sites that dealt with human trafficking," the cyborg explained. "As I recall...my memory banks just brought it up, never mind, according to my database, I've found a transaction in which the person being...sold was green in color. Sounded a lot like someone I know."

"You know someone else with green skin?" Garfield asked, looking over his shoulder and the back of the couch.

Cassie felt like her face ran into a metaphorical wall. How did…? "I think he was talking about you," the blonde stated.

"Oh. That makes sense. Wait, does that mean you know who sold me?" Now the green-skinned idiot was picking up on the implications.

"I got a name, and if you give me some time, I think I can find out where he's living," Victor told the shapeshifter. "Then you can go pay him a visit and get some real answers."

"You'd do that for me?" Garfield asked, eyes wide with awe and hope.

"What do you think? I got plenty of time to kill and nothing to do," the cybernetic teen quipped. "Besides, look at me. Do you think I'm the type of dude who's okay with slavery?"

Oh yeah, the human parts of this cyborg were black. Oh. You don't think there might be some revenge fantasy playing out here, do you? From her experience, Victor was a down to earth guy and he didn't go around doing things impulsively, so it should be alright, right?

"Also, I'd like to help you kick the motherfucker's ass," Victor added as he cracked his mechanical knuckles.

This couldn't end well. For who, that was the question.

"If you would not dislike it, I would volunteer my services to bring about harm to this fornicator of the female procreator," Kori added her two cents. "That is exclusive to whether or not I am still on this planet at the time of your assault on this unknown individual in question."

And here Cassie thought that Kori wouldn't have been one to hold a grudge. Not that she blamed the alien exile. There was so much she didn't know about the Tamaranian, so what she would do in her free time was not common knowledge yet. Oh wait, planning government coups, that was something she did.

Kori was a lot more violent than she let on.

"You would do that for me, even the stuff Kori said?" Garfield asked and you could hear that he was touched by the offers. "Are you guys superheroes or something?"

"What do you think?" Cassie retorted, stating more than asking. Probably should have been more straightforward and less sarcastic.

Green eyes were lighting up, shimmering through tears that had yet to be shed. "Dude, that would be so cool! Why didn't you mention any of that earlier? Are you holding out on me?"

"Maybe because we're not superheroes. We're just some kids with very not normal problems," Victor said.

"But still! Don't you want to be superheroes? Everyone here has some awesome powers. Oh! But we need names!" And they had lost the changeling as he dived headfirst into fantasy and there was no going back for him. "Obviously Cyborg's gotta be your superhero name. What person names their kid Cyborg, am I right? You're already there man!"

"But I'm not…" Victor—no, Cyborg, because he kept calling her Wonder Girl and she was not about to let him get away with that any time soon—protested weakly.

"What about you?" And now Garfield was turning his sights onto her. "Wait, aren't you Wonder Girl?" _Oh Goddamn it!_ "Yeah, I think you are. Your armor's kick ass enough and makes me think of Wonder Woman."

"If you do not mind me asking, what are these superheroes and why do they require additional names?" Kori wondered.

"Superheroes are people with special powers who fight bad guys and save the world," Garfield was quick to answer her. "They need superhero names so that no one knows who they really are and, I don't know, avoid paparazzi? It's just every superhero has a superhero name. It's just how it's done."

"I see you. Would you mind if I propose a moniker for my hero of super name?"

Oh no. No, no, no, no. This guy was not bringing this naive alien into his game of pretend. They weren't superheroes, like the Justice League, no matter what this too green for his own good kid thought. Besides, none of them knew the first thing about doing what superheroes did.

Scratch that last part. Maybe Tim knew a thing or two, but that didn't mean any of them should be trying to do that kind of stuff. At the end of the day, they were kids, plain and simple. They weren't supposed to know what they were doing half the time anyway, so why add to that?

Heedless of her train of thought, Kori had kept the conversation going. "I thought that perhaps a translation of my own name would suffice "

"That's cool. What is it?" Garfield asked eagerly, continuing this trainwreck in progress.

"It would be Starfire," the Tamaranian answered. "At least, that's the best translation I am able to produce at this time. With enough time, I would be able to come up with a more accurate name."

"Personally, I think Starfire is good enough. Fits you," Victor—ahem _Cyborg_ —remarked.

"It is better than Cyborg at any rate," she still felt the need to add, getting a dirty look for her effort.

"Well, I believe that your moniker describes you very well," Kori told—snicker— _Cyborg_.

"Hey, that was off the top of my head!" Cyborg protested, waving his hands frantically.

"I think it's a cool name!" Garfield piped up. "You're Cyborg the...uh...the cyborg! Yeah!"

"You…" Aw, now Cyborg was struggling for words, how adorable.

"What about you? What's your name?" Garfield called out, unnecessarily raising his voice. A second later, Cassie spotted Rachel halfway down the stairs and caught off guard that someone had spotted her. It was a classic deer in the headlights look on her face.

"Don't pay him any attention, he's talking about superheroes and superhero names," Cyborg—yeah, she was going to stick with that name—warned.

"Don't be like that! Ooh! I know! Magic Lady! Good name, right?" Garfield looked eagerly at the dark-haired girl, awaiting praise.

"That's a horrible name," Rachel stated bluntly.

"If it is not to your liking, pray tell us what is?" That was unexpected, but should have been seen coming a mile away. Kori was fully on the superhero train now and there was nothing stopping it.

Rachel looked as surprised as Cassie felt. "I have no intention to make another alias for myself, thank you very much. Now if you will excuse me, I have to be going."

"You're coming back, right?" Garfield asked.

"Actually, no. I have nothing pressing to keep me in this city for any longer. I will not be coming back so do not expect me," Rachel corrected.

Cassie frowned. "Where's this coming from?" she asked.

Rachel shook her head. "It does not concern any of you, so don't think that it does. It's in my nature not to remain in one place for too long anyway; I feel I've outlived my welcome here. So, as to not offend our host any longer, I am taking my leave."

"Who said you outlived your welcome?" For some reason, Cassie didn't like her earlier thoughts being spoken by someone else. Damn it, if anyone were to speak her thoughts, it was going to be her, Cassie Sandsmark!

"This is kinda sudden," Cyborg agreed. "Are you okay? Did something happen that you aren't telling us about?"

"Like I said…" Rachel cut herself off with a sigh. "Look, it has everything to do with me. You stay here with everyone else. I need—"

"What has everything to do with you? Come on, you can at least tell me," Cyborg interrupted, approaching the smaller girl. "We've spent I don't know how long running around the country; doesn't that mean anything?"

"It...I mean…" Wow, she was really stumbling here. "Look, Victor, I haven't been completely honest with all of you."

Ah, there was the bombshell.

"It's alright, Rachel," Cyborg told her, his voice soft, gentle even. "There's probably been things I've lied about, all of us here even. You can trust us, none of us here will hold it against you."

Cassie was concerned about the look that came over Rachel's face. The blonde didn't understand what the dark-haired, cloak-wearing girl was conveying with such a look. What was it trying to say? Then, that look was wiped away and transformed into something the blonde could read. It was discomfort, like what she was about to say was something that would change everything.

"My real name's not Rachel," she said at last.

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. At first, Cassie felt blown away by the revelation, but then when it sunk it, she felt...disappointed. That was it? Her real name wasn't Rachel? That's what that look from earlier was all about?

But wait, hadn't she mentioned earlier that she had an alias. No, she had had a bunch of them. Right? Could have sworn she said something like that.

"So what's your real name?" she asked point blank.

Dark eyes glanced at the blonde. "It's not a name you want to know."

"I bet the Grass Stain over there doesn't want anyone knowing his real name's Garfield but we all know," Cyborg shrugged, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"Yeah!" Garfield confirmed before stopping and thinking about what the cyborg had said. "Hey!"

"I mean, it's not anything embarrassing like that, right?" Cyborg continued, ignoring any protests from the peanut gallery.

Not-Rachel's face twitched. She sure took her time thinking about what the large, half-robot had said before finally caving it. "My real name is Raven."

Which meant absolutely nothing to Cassie. "A bunch of people have that name. There was a show where a character was called Raven. No big deal," she said dismissively as she strolled over to a chair and plopped herself down in it. "If that's what you were worried about, it's nothing. Better to be called Raven than Garfield, am I right?"

"Stop picking on me!" Garfield exclaimed, looking steamed.

"You heard her," Cyborg continued, again ignoring the green shapeshifter. "Stick around, stay a while. I'm sure Wonder Girl here doesn't mind letting ya stay for a bit, right?"

"I don't know, maybe _Cyborg_ shouldn't invite people to stay in my house," Cassie retorted.

"Perhaps Raven may be the superhero name that Garfield has been talking about?" Kori remarked.

"But I'm not a superhero," Raven protested, again unknowingly voicing Cassie's thoughts.

"Sure you are!" Garfield cut in. "And now my turn! What should be my name? You guys have any thoughts? I was thinking Beastmaster. Kinda got some oomph in it, right?"

"Personally, I think Grass Stain's better. Reminds people that you're tough to get off their clothing once you're there," Cyborg quipped.

Which pretty much described Cassie's conflict of trying to get these people out of her house and—hold up. A second ago, Raven was trying to leave and she, Cassie, and tried to change her mind. What was she doing!?

"Farm Boy might be more appropriate," Ravens aid dryly. "Pretty much looks like he lives in a barn."

"No way! It has to be something cool!" Garfield cried out.

"Does Farm Boy not like his superhero name?" Kori wondered out loud.

"It's not my superhero name!"

Cassie had a feeling that this was going to be a long night.

* * *

It felt like it had been forever since he had taken off the costume, but Tim was enjoying the feeling of real clothes lightly brushing against his skin as he sat in front of his computer.

It was a better uniform to wear when talking to Barbara who had something she needed to ask him about.

" _What took you so long to tell me about the aliens?_ "

Yeah, the whole Gordanian threat. He'd like to remind people he had nothing to do with that, except, you know stop it. Naturally, though, the Justice League was going to get all the credit for it. Apparently, between himself, Cassie, and Kori, they had done enough damage to the bridge that the communication restrictions Trogaar had put on the city were lifted. Word got out, and a trio of Leaguers headed by Hawkgirl came right in to clean up the mess. There were reports that the Green Lantern and the Martian Manhunter were with her, so it probably wouldn't take them long to take care of it.

For once, let someone else handle the epic stuff.

In the meantime, he had something else epic to handle, i.e. placating Barbara.

"Wasn't my fault, they blocked all communications going in and out of the city. No one could call anyone," he said truthfully. "Their leader did a broadcast and everything, then started bombing the city limits to make sure no one left."

" _Let me guess, you suited up for it, didn't you?_ "

"Do you want an honest answer to that or do you want to stay in the dark?" he asked in reply.

" _I'll go with the honest answer._ "

"I had backup, a group of superpowered teens and an alien exile called a Tamaranian whom these Gordanians were chasing after. We infiltrated the ship, beat up the leader or general or whatever his rank was, and disabled their communication block." Simple summary, but he knew what was going to come after that. "Before you say what I did was reckless and stupid, I'm still alive, I'm talking with you right now, that has to count for something."

" _I didn't make that suit for you so that you could relive the Kalanorian invasion with a Gordadian one, or whatever they call themselves. But I guess what's done is done. Nothing I can say about it except I'm betting you're going to need a new shipment of supplies soon. That might come later than expected._ "

What? Why! "It wasn't my fault I couldn't tell you about it!" Tim exclaimed, offended.

" _I understand, so I'm forcing time off from crime fighting on you. I'm betting you're really tired and could use a break. Use it well, Tim._ "

A convenient excuse, no matter how true it was. Not that Tim would have let it stopped him from patrolling. This was going to put a cramp on his style unless he took an actual break.

Whatever. "By the way, I finished that case on Blood that came up a couple weeks ago. You can put a case closed on that."

" _Details? For the file_."

"Just your generic use of magic or some supernatural forces to take over the world, buying kids off the dark web and making them into assassins, you know, the usual spy thriller plot. And before you say anything to that, that's where things led and by the time I found out about all of that, was waist deep in and had to fight my way out."

" _You've been getting in these situations a lot lately. I'm beginning to wonder—_ "

"I told you, I found backup. If I can convince them to stick around, I won't be alone out there. They're not you or Dick, but they have some serious firepower to them. If left alone, they could do some serious damage all on their own. One's a cyborg, another's from outer space, you get the deal. I should be proactive on this one, make sure they don't become another Two-face."

" _You've been mentioning these people a bit. If you wouldn't mind, send me everything you have on them. I want to vet them, make sure there's no nasty surprises. Both of us know what happens when someone with power decides to go off the deep end, and if these people are packing the kind of firepower you're hinting out, I shudder at the thought of what their Night of Ice would look like. If you want to form a crime fighting team with them, that's your call, I can't tell you what to do on that one. Make sure you get their consent first, don't force anyone. You're not in Gotham anymore and rules are different in Jump._ "

"I got it, I got it. I have one mom already, I don't need another." That took a little off his shoulders. Was worried about that. Now it was to get the others' consent. Thinking about what they could do, there were a lot of possibilities. Ones that weren't options back in the old hometown. Very appealing.

Plus, he'd have someone watching his back again. The trust would have to be built from the ground up, of course, but it would be nice not to be out there alone again. Never really knew what you had until you lost it.

Now, there was one other thing.

"Any word on Batman?" the teen asked as he leaned back in his seat.

There was a moment of silence, then an audible exhale of breath. " _Nothing yet. Still missing. The Birds of Prey and the Batclan are doing what it can to make sure Gotham doesn't return to form again. It's difficult, but right now we're banking on the fact that since there have been periods of time where Batman hasn't shown up only to appear again, it'll keep the worse elements of the city in check. Hopefully we get word that he's in some other city breaking some case wide open and will be back in the next few days. It's been going on two weeks now. I don't know how much longer this can last._ "

Tim bit his lip. Definitely not a good sign. "I wish I could be back there to help out. I know there's been some newbies recruited to the Batclan, but Dick's the only one with real experience. Looking out for them, training them, and doing the usual patrols? How's he holding up?"

" _Better than what I expected. I'll keep an eye on him too, don't worry. We can't lose anyone anymore. It's not the same without you, but we have to deal with the cards given to us. You do your own thing, Tim. Take care of yourself, and try not to get yourself killed. That's all I ask._ "

He nodded, though he knew she wouldn't be able to see him. "You do the same, Barbara. We just gotta trust that he'll be back. This time around, we have more of organized crime behind bars and no other super criminals at large. I believe you guys can do this. You will do this. We won't lose this city, otherwise we'll have to owe Batman a new one."

" _He'd be so pissed._ " Ah, a chuckle. " _Okay, signing out, Tim. Gotta make sure Nightwing has my eyes and ears._ "

"Over and out," the dark-haired teen responded and removed the earpiece.

Thinking over everything he had said to Barbara, Tim turned to look out to his bedroom window. Could he possibly form a new team all the way out here on the West Coast? Would any of the others be willing to help out? If so, what could they accomplish together?

Though he had his concerns, Tim couldn't help but look at all the advantages. First thing tomorrow, he'd head over to Cassie's and find out.

Who knows, this could be the start of something great.

* * *

Author's Note: And that marks the end of this installment. _Fallen Olympus_ still has plenty of steam in it, and some of the things mentioned like Batman missing are addressed in that story. Go on and check it out, leave my coauthor a review if you like and let him know how he's doing. Now, as for future stories, we're working on the one that comes after this pair. The working title right now is _Seven Ways to Bleed_ , and yes, we're going back to Gotham for that one. And it will be posted on ShadowMajin's account. Of course, nothing will be done about that one until after _Fallen Olympus_ finishes up. I would like to thank all the reviewers who gave their feedback and some interesting jokes and precognition—Jackalope089, I'm looking at you. I'll see you with the next story.


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